Warcraft: Beacon of Light
by wickedmetalviking1990
Summary: Every adventure begins with the first steps. This is the story of Melissa Redmane, a well-to-do peasant from Hillsbrad, called by the Holy Light to bring healing to the people of the Alliance (and others). Set during the first three Warcraft games, Alliance perspective. Rated T for brief language
1. Introduction

**(AN: So all of my previous attempts at writing a _World of Warcraft_ fic have crashed and burned. So here we go with yet another try: hopefully this one will work.)**

 **(I'll try to keep this one rated T, just so that it doesn't get too dirty and more people can read it. But there will be some coarse language. Most of the characters who appear in this story are ones I made up, but there are brief cameos from characters created by Blizzard, so i will reiterate that i don't own _Warcraft_ or its established canon characters: those belongs to Blizzard.)**

 **(This will be an introduction for one of the characters which I have used in playing _World of Warcraft_. It will be an origin story, since I came up with something quite unique than "starting in Elwynn Forest". This opening chapter starts during the lead-up to the Siege of Orgrimmar, but the rest of the story will take place at various points between the first three _Warcraft_ games. Enjoy)**

* * *

 **Introduction**

The Summer's Rest inn was busy, as usual. Patrons from all over Pandaria and various visitors from the five kingdoms of the Alliance were here; some of them on business from far away places, others taking a break to enjoy the delights of the local cuisine. Though there was a war about beyond the gilded doors of Summer's Rest, here the air was one of relative peace and relaxation. Indeed, many of those now enjoying the luxuries of the Summer's Rest inn were soldiers of the Alliance, posted here briefly while awaiting new orders from Stormwind.

Yet for the moment, the horrors of war were forgotten as long as the patrons cups and plates were filled. Dwarves of Ironforge placed wagers on whoever could out-drink the Pandaren locals. A couple of Gnomes who had clearly too much to drink were dancing upon a table to the amusement of their audience. A gaggle of Night Elves in a group by themselves whispered to each other in Darnassian about what no one else knew.

At one table near the back of the inn, a human woman in her late thirties was enjoying some of the down-time by herself. On the table at which she sat was a small cup of rice wine and a very large tome; the latter of which sat open upon the table and upon which the woman periodically wrote thereon with a quill. The cup sat on the left-hand of the book, and on the right-hand was the tiny bottle of ink from which she dabbed to refill the pen.

For a while, the woman seemed quite engrossed with her business. Indeed, it was almost a whole minute before she noticed the large, hairy creature standing before her table. A soft 'ahem' was heard and the woman lifted up her eyes to the least likely one to make such a little sound: it had come from the large Pandaren standing in front of her table. They were still such an odd sight, these Pandaren. They were not as tall as the Draenei, but were easily larger than any Tauren. Though they were covered in black and white fur and had bear-ish features, they were not savage like the Furbolgs of Kalimdor. They walked upright and wore simple clothing: this one in particular wore a blue dress with red floral designs upon the skirt thereof.

"Excuse me," the Pandaren, a female, spoke to the human. "I came in here for a drink and was wondering if you'd like some company. I noticed you sitting alone here and, since there's not much else to do today before dinner, I wanted to speak with one of you outsiders."

The human nodded wordlessly and the Pandaren took a seat across from her at the table. If any had looked upon them, it would have been quite an odd sight. The Pandaren was an average five foot four inches tall, well rounded, and wearing clothes that were nice enough for public display at a fancy place like this, but not indicative of any great wealth. The human, on the other hand, was five foot seven, slender - the Pandaren might have likened her to a twig - and wore the white and gold of a priest beneath her blue traveling clothes: all of this complemented by flaming red hair that currently rested upon her shoulders and back.

"I believe I've seen you around here before," the Pandaren spoke after a short pause. "I think I know your name. What was it, now? Meruisa Redman?"

The human chuckled softly. "Melissa Redmane," she corrected.

"I think that was it," the Pandaren woman replied. "Maybe. All you human names sound the same to me." Melissa Redmane did not reply to the Pandaren's insensitive remark. She had heard more and worse than these from the Shado-Pan in the Jade Forest ever since her arrival in Pandaria.

"I remember you, too," Melissa returned. "You were at Halfhill Market a few days ago when Po Ironbelly's wagon broke down."

The Pandaren laughed. "That was a sight indeed! All of his beautiful melons went rolling all over the ground! He nearly fainted trying to get them back in before that Hozen pinched them."

Melissa chuckled. "Xing, right? Xing Marshpaw."

"Yes, that's correct," nodded Xing the Pandaren. "You have an excellent memory." Melissa thanked Xing for the compliment, then returned to her writing. Xing called down a waiter and ordered a Stormstout lager for herself, then turned back to her drinking partner and saw her once again engrossed in her book.

"What are you writing, Miss Redmond?"

"Mrs. Redmane," clarified Melissa. "And this is new entry in my journal."

"A journal?" asked Xing.

"Not really," Melissa replied. "It's mostly a record of all the places I've been to and all the things I've seen."

"Oh, are you a Lorewalker?"

"I suppose you'd call it that," Melissa nodded. That, as far as Melissa recalled, was the name that the Pandaren gave to their historians and archaeologists: the kind of people that Brann Bronzebeard would love to compare notes with on the secrets of the Titans (over a beer, of course).

"I would love to hear stories about the strange places you've been to, Miss...uh, Mrs. Redman," Xing stated. "You know, the people in my village believed that Pandaria was the whole world. Most still do, in fact. Even after the mists were lifted and visitors started coming to the Vale of Eternal Blossoms, there are still folk who think that Kalimdor and Stormwind are just old wives' tales. You know, like the Lich King and the Burning Legion."

Melissa smiled at Xing's oblivious comments, but it was a grim smile. What she had seen in Northrend still haunted her to this day. She had only briefly spoken about it with her comrades in arms, the only other people who had experienced it first-hand and knew the magnitude of those events as she had, and told the full story only to her husband. Even today, almost four years after the fall of the Lich King, she would not willingly tell of what had happened at the Roof of the World.

At this moment, the waiter arrived with Xing's drink, which she took and placed on the table. Melissa had stopped writing and stowed the ink and quill in the little scribe's box: made of polished ebony wood, with the crest of Lordaeron in gold upon the lid.

"There's not much to tell, though," sighed Melissa. "I mean, no more than you could hear at the Lion's Pride inn."

"Oh, I'm sure there is," Xing replied. "Besides, I have never been outside of Pandaria before. It will be like seeing a whole new world for me! Everything will be new and exciting, no matter how small or mundane it might appear to you, familiar with your strange worlds. Here's a deal, I will buy you dinner if you tell me about your travels. You look like you could use a good meal or five."

This caused Melissa to laugh genuinely. The Pandaren's obsession with food was amusing to no end, and surely she must seem emaciated beyond belief to their eyes. However, her travels and duties as a healer in the Alliance often meant long, sleepless nights away from husband and family and without proper food. She did not turn down the offer.

"Alright, then," Melissa nodded. "You're on. What would you like to know?"

"First things first, where are you from?" Xing asked. At this, Melissa's smile seemed to fade and her blue eyes fell in sorrowful memory.

"I was born and raised in a little village in the Hillsbrad Foothills, in the Kingdom of Lordaeron," she replied. "Before it was destroyed by the Undead Scourge."

"I can tell from your face that you are sad," Xing said. "Is it a bad place, this Hills-bad?"

"No," Melissa ruefully replied. "It was very beautiful, in fact. Possibly one of the most beautiful places in all of Lordaeron, as it once was."

"Then why are you sad?"

"It's gone, now," Melissa sighed. "The whole of Hillsbrad has been taken over by the Forsaken since the Cataclysm. I heard that there's nothing left of my village."

"I am terribly sorry," Xing bowed. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's nothing," Melissa dismissed.

"Um, where was this place?" she asked.

At this, Melissa reached down to the small bundle that had sat clandestinely next to her chair. From this she pulled out a map inscribed upon thick parchment vellum and rolled it out upon the table. It showed a large sea with three large continents in broken, uneven crescents situated north, east and west. Each continent sat slightly apart from each other, with a large ocean in the middle. In the midst of that ocean was a maelstrom, around which were dotted several islands. Towards the south was a roundish continent to which Melissa pointed.

"This is Pandaria," she said. "We are here."

"But it's so small," Xing replied.

"This is the Eastern Continent," Melissa stated, pointing to the easternmost 'crescent'. "And here on the top part is Lordaeron."

"That's where you're from?"

Melissa nodded. "And if you'll look closely, you can see Lordamere Lake about in the center, and the Alterac Mountains to the east. The Hillsbrad Foothills are right here directly south of Lordamere Lake, bordered on the west by the Arevas River and on the east by Thoradin's Wall."

"Such strange names," Xing commented. "I don't know how you remember them all."

"This was home to me, remember?" Melissa returned. "I grew up in those foothills, hearing stories about the great heroes of Stromgarde, Tirisfal and Alterac. The mage-city of Dalaran was within view: in fact, on a clear day, you could see the spires of the Violet Citadel if you climbed the hills just northwest of my village. As a little girl, I often could be found playing in the woods or in the little rivers of that area. It was beautiful."

"What made you want to leave?" Xing asked. "I couldn't think of anything that would make me want to leave my village. Was the food bad?"

Melissa placed her hand over her mouth to hide the wiry smile she made. "Not when I was growing up."

"Did the ale run dry?" Xing asked.

"I'm not a heavy drinker," Melissa replied. "But the taverns were still open when we left, so I don't think so."

"Then why ever would you want to leave such a perfect place?" Xing queried. "Picturesque landscape, good food and strong drink are more than enough reasons to stay at home and enjoy the comforts of life."

Melissa sighed. "Maybe if fate had been kinder, that would have been my lot. But many things happened that changed all of this."

"What horrible things could have caused you to leave home?" Xing asked in a dreadful voice.

"Oh, they weren't all horrible things," Melissa interjected. "Some of them were good." She chuckled. "In fact, the one reason that has often led me away from home was the second best thing to happen to me while I was living in Hillsbrad."

* * *

 **(AN: Short and sweet, but a nice introduction. Part of my inspiration for the structure of this story is based on all the _Warcraft_ books I've read [except for _War Crimes_ , everyone's favorite book, which i haven't read]. That really helped get this story on its feet as i started writing, which was the hardest part of the writing.)**


	2. Call of the Light

**(AN: Aside from actually starting out with writing, another problem i've had with making _WoW_ -based stories is in actually making a worthwhile story. For this one in particular, i have drawn inspiration from, obviously, the Christian tradition as well as one of my favorite historical figures from the 15th century. I'm actually surprised at how it turned out.)**

 **(I also had to come up with a name for the calendar of Azeroth. In _World of Warcraft_ , the calendar used is the real-life Julian calendar. However, there are Titan watchers with names of the Norse gods [Tyr, Odyn, Thorim, Freya], from whence came the names of the days of the week in our world. To that end, many of the names of the days of the week end up being similar, with others being different: ie, Monday would be "Lunesday", after Elune, and Saturday is "Loresday", similar to the Tamrielic calendar from the _Elder Scrolls_. Of course, things would get even more confusing when you think that days on Draenor might be slightly different than on Azeroth, and the Orcish or Eredar calendar would be different than the Azerothi one, not to mention the Tauren and Night Elves, whose cultures evolved separate from the Human and Dwarvish ones.)**

* * *

 **Call of the Light**

Hillsbrad was indeed a beautiful sight in the summer months. The lower dells near Southshore were sprinkled with leafy oaks and hoary ash trees, while the highlands closer to the Alterac Mountians bore their evergreen pine and fir trees through winter's hoary frost. Rolling hills and glistening rivers made up the land that was mostly uncovered by the trees, and here and there the villages of the loyal people of Lordaeron could be found.

In one such village, situated in the dells between Southshore and Tarren Mill, lived the Field family. The father, Colin Field, was a miner who had, despite humble origins, risen to a positions of relative wealth and respect in the village. Indeed, the ores he had mined were in high demand in Lordaeron. This had blessed him and his family with enough money to fair rather well for themselves. At least they never went hungry.

Colin and his wife Maryem had only one daughter: a spirited young girl with flaming red hair named Melissa. By now she was eight years old, and more than a handful for the two parents. Though not insolent or rebellious, Melissa nevertheless caused her parents much grief in that she was always running about the hills and woods outside of their village. Even stories of gnolls that skinned their captives alive, trolls that cut out the hearts of little children and offered them to the dark spirits they worshiped, or murlocs that dragged the foolish wanderers into the tides, would not deter Melissa from her desire to explore every glade, cave and wood.

"It ain't right," Colin Field would say with a wag of his head, every time his daughter was found out of doors. "A girl like her's got no place galavanting in the woods and fields. It's the Library of Dalaran that's in her future."

Melissa was indeed a very smart young girl. At the age of eight she knew how to read and could often be found with her nose in a book (often in the middle of a forest or by a river). Because of her wit, and helped doubtless by his success as a miner, Colin had decided that, rather than marrying his daughter off to some poor farmer, his daughter would become a scribe at the Library of Dalaran. Usually only mages were permitted to enter the city or be trained and employed therein, but Colin Field believed that his daughter's skill and intelligence would, in time, flourish so greatly that the mages of Dalaran wouldn't help but permit her to study there.

On this day, the fifth of May in the 593rd year of the King's Calendar, Melissa Field was once again out in the woods, running free and enjoying the lovely late spring air. The trees were green, vibrant, and full of beautiful song-birds. A cool breeze wafted from the distant coast, driving away the heat of the sun on its way to noon. Under the trees the wind blew cold, but in the sun it was perfect.

Melissa threw herself down upon a spot of soft turf, gazing up at the blue mid-morning sky. She knew she should be back at the village, getting ready for chapel. She didn't mean to disappoint her parents, or appear to reject the Holy Light. In fact, she was wearing the little pale blue dress that she wore to chapel every Loresday, the seventh day of the week. She was, in fact, ready for chapel and would go skipping and running back to the village as soon as she heard the noon bell toll for the start of service, slip quietly into the pew occupied by her mother and father, and pretend that she had been with them the whole time.

Not that she made a habit of lying, of course. Usually she was on time and went walking or skipping along with her parents as the noon bell tolled. Lately, however, the topic at dinner became more and more of the same thing: news from the south. Troubling rumors were making their way from the Kingdom of Stormwind: strange creatures had appeared in the Black Morass east of the Stranglethorn Jungle and were attacking the villages in the Red Ridge Mountains and Duskwood Forest. Her father Colin was often quite despondent over the news he heard, but for some reason that eluded young Melissa's mind, he and her mother couldn't stop talking about it. For her part, she had the woods and fields to retreat to and leave all of these worries behind her.

And so it was today. Instead of listening to father go on and on about rumors from Stormwind, which seemed to upset everyone in the family along with him, Melissa hastened to the woods and threw herself upon the turf. She breathed deeply the fresh smells of pine needles and the blooming flowers dotting the little sun-touched glade.

The sun came out from behind a cloud and shone warmly upon the little girl in blue lying in the midst of the woods. Instinctively, Melissa rose her hand to block out the sun. Then she froze: a voice spoke to her from somewhere in the middle of the forest, calling out her name. At first she thought it was someone from the village, sent by her mother to look for her. Rising to a sitting position, she looked this way and that through the trees for the speaker; there was no one there. She thought that she had, perhaps, imagined the voice. More than once had her mother or father sent one of their friends, or her friends, to go out and look for her when she was out in the fields or swimming in some little river. Perhaps she had mistook this time with one of those.

Then the voice spoke again.

 _Melissa..._ it whispered.

Again she looked around at the trees around her little glade. No one could be seen, and now she was starting to worry. Though the Kirin Tor, the mages who ruled the city of Dalaran, regulated and policed all magical activities within the Kingdoms of Stormwind and Lordaeron, there were still stories of rogue wizards wandering the wilds, performing their dark magics away from others. Could it be someone invisible speaking to her?

 _Melissa..._ the voice whispered again.

"Who are you?" Melissa asked, her voice twinged with fear.

 _Do not be afraid, child,_ the voice spoke. _Now, we are one._

As Melissa was looking frantically about the glade for whoever was speaking, she per-chanced to notice that her hand was shining almost completely white. Not as though it were sickly and pale - though she was fair-skinned - but as though a great light shone upon her skin that caused it to radiate such a glow. She looked at her other hand and saw the same shimmering glow reflecting off that hand as well. As she looked about, she saw that the whole glade was bathed in golden light.

It was like the light of the sun, but it was different, much different. There was warmth, such as a blanket on a cold day, but no heat that burned and scorched. There was light, but not the searing blindness that came to those who stared at the sun. Lastly, there was something else that Melissa could scarce describe that she felt while bathed in this light. A feeling of complete and total safety, as though her mother and father both held her in their arms. Her eyes welled at the rush of emotion that overwhelmed her under the luminescence.

"What do you want from me?" she asked.

* * *

"That's just silliness," Xing dismissed with a giggle. "Everyone knows that the sun doesn't talk. It just gives light to grow our crops. Maybe there are some odd shaman who believe the spirits of the ancestors speak through the sun, but nobody worships light!"

Melissa did not respond. Once upon a time, maybe she would have. But she was lost in memories and did not care to try to correct Xing. Instead she reached quietly for her honey wine and took a sip.

"I wish I could explain it better," Melissa spoke at last. "But..." She sighed. "...that's as close as I can articulate what I felt. It's not really something you can put into words. And believe you me, Xing, I've tried."

"Why not?" Xing stubbornly asked.

"I doubt there are any words," Melissa chuckled. "In the Common Tongue, Orcish, Taurahe, Zandalari, Draenic, or the tongues of Elves, to describe how it feels to be touched by the Light. I know that sounds silly and ridiculous, especially for a scholar to say, but it's true. Some times I've felt the Light as a warm blanket, or the invigorating feeling of cool water after a hard day's work. Sometimes it's been a strong, sturdy stone, and other times a roaring fire."

"That sounds ridiculous," Xing dismissed again.

"And that is exactly what my parents said when I told them about this," Melissa sighed. "I remember my father thought I was crazy. My mother said nothing. I was upset at them, but I wanted to ask someone about what I had experienced. Of course, because I had missed chapel services, they were a little agitated at me; so I can't expect them to have been in the best of moods. But there was someone else who decided to listen."

* * *

The day wore on and Melissa Field sulked most of it. As it was the weekend, there were no chores: Maryem usually did any of the cooking and cleaning herself on high days such as this. The words her parents had said angered the young girl. Of course they hadn't understood; they hadn't heard the voice speak to them. All they did was scold her for missing chapel and dismissed her adventure in the woods as a silly day-dream.

About four o'clock in the evening, Melissa walked to the chapel in the center of the village. Her parents had told her to confess to the village priest that she had failed to appear that day. Already her heart seemed to sink from the state of ecstasy she had felt in the woods. Her parents, whom she loved with all of her little heart, did not believe in what she had seen; their words played on her mind, making the event seem less than what it had been. Already she was doubting whether or not it had actually happened.

The little village church was a one-room structure, of very little grandeur. Terracotta tiles adorned the pale gray brick structure to which Melissa's family went for chapel every Loresday morning. Inside was a stone dais beneath a simple stained-glass window that served as an altar, and in the sanctuary were two rows of wooden pews in which the worshipers sat. It was into this humble chapel that Melissa entered that afternoon, feeling less and less elated. As she entered the sanctuary, she noticed that it was empty: she was pleased to have a moment to herself.

Slowly she walked down the empty sanctuary aisle in the center to the dais. The window behind was stained a shade of gold, and when the light shone through at the middle of the day, it filled the chapel with glistening light. As the sun was westering, the effect was not as dazzling now as then. But in the solitude of the empty chapel, Melissa felt a sense of tranquility: she let out a gasp of surprise, for it reminded her of how she felt in the woods. Surely here, of all places, the Light was near to the faithful. She took a knee, genuflecting in the direction of the stained glass window and the faint, westering orb of light.

"Are you there?" she asked. Her little voice reverberated through the empty, stone chapel. Even as she spoke, her mind returned to the words her parents had said. It suddenly seemed very silly to be speaking to a window: she knew that it couldn't hear her or speak back to her. She sighed in sorrow at her confusion, then continued to speak.

"I've never doubted you, Light," she spoke. "But something happened. I guess you know, huh? If it was you, give me a sign."

At that moment she heard footsteps off to her left. With a little gasp, she turned to thither and saw the village priest Father Preston, an elderly man with a balding head of gray hair and a short beard, standing by a side-door.

"Father!" she greeted. "I'm sorry for missing chapel today."

"I'm not here to scold you, child," the priest replied in a calm, assuring voice. "I was in my study when I heard your voice. I didn't think anyone would be here."

"I should be going," Melissa uttered, her eyes shifting to the floor as she prepared to leave.

"So soon?" he asked.

"My parents told me to confess my absence today," Melissa replied. "If you're busy studying, I can come back later."

"There's always time for the penitent, child," said Father Preston. He gestured with his hand to the front pew nearest to them, and Melissa sat on the right end of the pew while he sat beside her.

"Blessings and pardon, child of the Light," the priest uttered, gesturing as he spoke.

"Thank you, father," Melissa nodded. She then looked back towards the door as if she would leave.

"Before you go, child," the priest spoke. "I would like to ask you something."

"Yes, father?"

"I heard you praying just now, out loud," he said. "Is what happened related to your absence today?"

"Yes," Melissa nodded sheepishly. "But, well, it's a little silly."

"Tell me, please," the priest said. Reluctantly, Melissa shared with the priest what she had experienced in the woods. All the time she hung her head, feeling very silly retelling this story and fully expecting a similar response to what her parents had said. Once she had finished, to her surprise, the priest seemed more interested than dismissive.

"And this is the first time this has happened?" he asked.

"Yes, father," she replied. "My parents thought it was a silly day-dream."

"I understand, child," the priest nodded. "The Light speaks to us all in different ways."

"So it was the Light?" Melissa asked, a sudden well of hope springing up within her. Here was an adult, someone she trusted, who believed her.

"It is a strong possibility," Father Preston replied. "Tell me, what did the voice want of you?"

"It said that I should obey my parents," Melissa said. "And go to chapel."

The priest gave Melissa a smile. "Then there's no reason to believe this isn't the Light. All of those things are good things, child; things which the Light tells us to do. I think it is safe to do as the voice says."

Melissa smiled in return and, without thinking, rose up to leave without another word. Half-way to the door she stopped and turned around.

"Thank you, father," she said. He nodded his head in reply. She turned about again to leave, then paused and turned back to the priest. "I want to learn more about the Light. I want to know what you know."

The priest chuckled. "My child, there is much about the Light that even I do not know. I don't know how much I could teach you."

"Something, anything," Melissa continued. "Please, I want to know. I want to know in case this happens again."

"Well," said Father Preston. "If you are sincere about this decision, I could always use an assistant. I'm an old man and not able to take care of the chapel as well as I used to. I will speak to your parents about this: you can come here and help me with my duties and, while you are with me, I will teach you what I know about the Light. Can you read?"

"Mhmm," Melissa nodded.

"Good," the priest nodded. "You will be of great help, I can tell."

* * *

 **(AN: I did as much research about the Church of the Light as I could prior to committing serious time to writing. What I discovered were transcendental platitudes whose tone was clearly aggressive towards a certain monotheistic religion.)**

 **(Back in my day, when i read the lore-book of _Warcraft 3_ , no clear side was taken between creationism or evolution as far as how the universe of _Warcraft_ came about: the player was allowed to choose which ever idea they supported. Now, however, it seems that Blizzard has gone back on that and straight up supported an evolutionary model, one in which Light and Shadow create the universe in a sort of magical big bang. This new model, despite claiming that Light and Shadow are counter-balances to each other, make the Void-lords OP and turn Sargeras into a misunderstood wimp, just like MCU loki, Sam Raimi's Sandman and _War Crimes_ ' version of Garrosh.)**

 **(As such, there may be some things featured in this story that are somewhat different than what you're used to. I'm not completely turning everything on its head, just telling a similar story from a certain point of view.)**


	3. The Three Virtues

**(AN: Aside from my alignment to the Light and my derision of the Shadow-fans and how they've made the Void-lords stronger than the Burning Legion, there is something we can both agree on. The wizards of the Kirin Tor use a language apart from the Common Tongue [a generic phrase referring to English in high-fantasy settings] in their spells. I have referred to this language as "Old Azerothi", as it is not as widely used lately as Common.)**

 **(I have also included in this story, starting in this chapter, another character who may be appearing in a future story in some form or another.)**

* * *

 **The Three Virtues**

It was greatly to Melissa's surprise that her parents agreed to let her spend her free-time with Father Preston. Doubtless they hoped that the less such time she had to herself, the less she would be found wandering in the woods. It also made pleased them to see Melissa under the tutelage of one they trusted. Perhaps he would put her skill with books to use, and then, after a time, he might recommend her to someone who had connections with the Kirin Tor.

So it was that, after the day's chores were done, Melissa would run off to the chapel instead of the woods. Her duties ranged from simple and mundane - lighting candles, trimming wicks, cleaning the sanctuary - to ones that made use of her particular skills. As Melissa could read and write, she would write letters at the priest's dictation, or look up passages from some of the books he had in his possession. Usually they were volumes of Catechism of the Church of the Holy Light, from whose pages he drew inspiration for the weekly ceremony.

Through the rest of summer and on into the autumn, Melissa Field assisted the village priest. During this, he taught her what he knew about the Holy Light. At some point in the distant past, when there was greater traffic between the early kingdoms of men and the High Elven Kingdom of Quel'Thalas, the concept of the Light was introduced to the world of men. The origin of the Three Virtues, however, was more difficult to pinpoint: according to the priest, scholars differed over whether the High Elven priests introduced the Three Virtues or whether the human clerics developed them of their own. Nevertheless, they were widely embraced by all adherents of the Church of the Light and taught in every Loresday service at every chapel from Stratholme to Stormwind.

"Respect," the priest told Melissa, one autumn morning as they were working in the little garden outside his rectory. "This is the first of the Three Virtues."

"I know that," Melissa stated in a matter-of-fact manner. "I respect my mother and father, and you. If King Terenas visited our village, I would respect him as well, and Princess Calia."

"Ah, but do you know why you respect them?" the priest asked.

"They're my parents and my rulers," Melissa returned. "That's just what we do."

"But _why_ do we respect them?" repeated the priest. She gave him a blank stare, unable to plumb the meaning of his question. He chuckled.

"All things are linked, child," the priest began. "A child of the Light is never alone in the world. Remember the words spoken at every Loresday service?"

"'In the Light, we are one,'" quoth Melissa.

"Right," the priest replied. "Your mother and father are good people. They work hard to give you a house to sleep in at night, food to fill your belly, and education that you may have a better life than they did: they show you respect in this regard. Our King is also a good man: he protects our kingdom from threats from without, levies fair taxes, and does not abuse his power as our ruler."

"So good people are worthy of respect, then," reasoned Melissa.

"Many people only go that far," the priest continued. "But the Light asks us to respect even those who are not worthy of respect. A life that has gone astray is a life still. It may be a necessity to put an end to a life that causes harm to others, as the town-guards may do to a notorious criminal, but to dishonor the body or spirit of the deceased is outside of the Light. Do you understand this?"

"I think so," Melissa replied.

"To truly understand what it means to respect," the priest concluded. "You must accept that you are connected to the world as a whole."

"Me?" Melissa asked. "But I'm just a little girl from Hillsbrad."

"Ah," the priest said. "But you are more than just one person: you are part one with the Light. If you help even one person, whether they deserve it or not in your mind, you have made an impact on the world as a whole. A small drop in a great lake, yes, but even a small drop can do great things." He pointed to one of the plants. "Like these plants here. They start out life as a seed, a very small seed: but, given time, and the respect and care that it needs, this tiny seed grows into a plant that can feed many people." With this, he plucked several of the fruit and handed them to Melissa.

"For your parents," he said. "I think that will be all for today. See you again tomorrow."

* * *

Through the winter Melissa continued her training under Father Preston, the village priest. During that winter, Maryem Field took ill and Melissa was forced to spend more time around the house, tending to the household duties as well as taking care of her mother. Her time with Father Preston dwindled, as she was now too busy to have much free time. For a time, Maryem's fever continued without any sign of relenting and both Colin and Melissa feared the worst. Every Loresday they prayed especially for the blessing of the Light to heal their beloved wife and mother.

On a particularly cold Loresday morning, with a light snow falling upon the dried, yellow-brown ground of the village, Father Preston gestured to Melissa to come to him after the service ended. As she approached the dais, the priest handed Melissa a small pouch from which issued fragrant smells.

"From the herbalist," Father Preston said. "For your mother."

As the village was rather small, most people knew each other on a first name basis. Lillian Puck was the name of the village herbalist; a reclusive old woman who knew more about the plants in all of Lordaeron (and a few from outside also) than anyone in the village. She wasn't known particularly for generosity.

"How much did she ask for?" Melissa asked.

"No, these were given in the donation," Father Preston nodded. "I have little need of them, but I've heard about your mother. These might be useful."

When Melissa went home, she showed the herbs to her mother. Though Melissa had no experience with using plants as anything other than in food or as decorations, Maryem Field had taken care of her four brothers and two sisters over many sickly winters: the herbs were just what she needed. In less than a week, Maryem's fever had broken and she was up and about and about her daily business. Colin found out almost three days after Maryem's fever had broken, as work at the mines had increased. All of them were happy for Maryem's recovery, but there was now something else which Colin and Maryem had in store for their little girl: training under Lillian the herbalist.

"Knowledge of herbs can go a long way," Maryem had said. "As you've seen for yourself."

Unfortunately, Lillian Puck was not as kind or welcoming as Father Preston. She insisted payment for lessons and had them in the middle of the day, during the time when Melissa would mostly be doing chores. As such, most of Melissa's chores had to be done at the end of the day, and took up the time usually spent at the chapel. Fortunately, lessons would not begin until the spring; for the time being, she would continue her lessons with Father Preston mostly undisturbed.

The winter passed too quickly for Melissa's liking and, once the spring began, she had to say good-bye to her tutelage under Father Preston. Though she was worried that it would take away her time, Father Preston told her to maintain faith that their lessons would continue. In the meanwhile, he gave her a copy of the Catechism of the Church of the Holy Light to read on her own; he also said that she could stop by the rectory whenever she wished.

The lessons with Lillian were much different than those with Father Preston, though Melissa was surprised at how much she ended up enjoying them. Most of the days were spent walking in the woods outside of the village - Melissa's favorite activity - picking wild flowers and plants. Lillian Puck would send her out to pick plants for her, after which she gave brief and grueling lessons on their properties. Brief because old lady Puck spent very little time actually discussing what the plants did, and grueling because she expected her students to know everything she had briefly discussed. Failure resulted in stern scolding and being held back after the lessons were concluded for 'punishments', which included household chores and gathering more plants.

Despite being about in her favorite environment, Melissa found another reason to enjoy the lessons. Lillian had a handful of other young boys and girls learning herb-lore from her, but they were often taking their lessons at other times and different days than Melissa. There was one, however, who shared lessons and often plant-picking ventures into the woods. A little dark-haired girl from Tarren Mill by the name of Hannah Farmer, who was the same age as Melissa, was also taking lessons from Lillian Puck.

* * *

One day in the summer, Melissa and Hannah were walking through the verdant, emerald forests of Hillsbrad, looking for plants. The sun was hot that day and, after a little searching, the two young women were hot and uncomfortably sweaty. As Melissa knew the place like the back of her hand, she led Hannah to one of the little creeks. Here they took off their shoes and waded out into the cool water, after which they splashed water on their faces. This done, they climbed back onto the bank and rested upon the soft grass at the lip of the bank.

"We should probably get back soon," Melissa said, after a while.

"Why?" Hannah asked. "Is old lady Puck getting to you already?"

"No," Melissa retorted. "I just hate cleaning up her hovel. Do you remember the first time we had to do it?"

"Oh, I know!" Hannah replied. "I swear, she must have never touched the floor with a wet mop in years!" They both chuckled.

"Let me ask you something."

"Hmm?" asked Melissa.

"If you could be anything you wanted to be," Hannah asked. "What would you be?"

"I'd want to be a priest," Melissa answered.

"Oh, come on," Hannah chuckled. "That's what you've been working at. Or have you not spent every moment away from old lady Puck with your nose in that catechism book? I've seen you carrying it around with you everywhere: five copper coins say you've got it with you now."

Melissa smiled. "I'll have you know that I'm actually learning to be a scholar for the Kirin Tor."

"Oh, a mage scholar!" Hannah playfully teased. "All hail the new official scribe for Archmage Antonidas! Who knows, your books might make their way to the Guardian's study in Karazhan!"

Melissa chuckled, but then furrowed her brow in thought. "Actually, that's not a bad idea."

"What is?" Hannah asked.

"Writing books," Melissa continued. "There's so many stories to be told. I hear the Capital City has one of the largest libraries in all of Lordaeron. Imagine all the knowledge that could be stored there! I would want to learn all I can and write books about them, so that more people know about those things than just a few people."

Hannah grinned. "But if everyone knows about the secrets in all of those books, won't they lose their value?"

"Hardly," Melissa dismissed. "Few humans who aren't mages or royalty have ever been past the Moon-Gates of Quel'Thalas. To the south, the vast jungles of Stranglethorn still hold many mysteries that even the people of Stormwind know so little. And the islands! It seems like every day, some new island is being discovered in the Great Sea between here and the Maelstrom. Not to mention almost nobody has explored Northrend..."

"What are you, a scholar, a priet, or an explorer?" Hannah laughed.

Melissa chuckled. "All I'm saying is that there are still things to explore and discover, even outside of the libraries of the Violet Hold and the Capital City."

"If you say so," Hannah returned.

"Alright, what about you?" Melissa asked. "What would you like to be?"

"Honestly," Hannah stated. "What I really want is to settle down, get married and have kids."

"Eww!" Melissa replied. They were both ten years old, but for Melissa, boys were still silly, crude creatures not worth her time.

"What do you mean, 'eww?'" Hannah retorted. "I honestly have no need to see anything else beyond Hillsbrad. I mean, maybe if the man I marry takes me some place beautiful to live, but I can read all about the different places and stories from the books you'll write. Maybe I'll read them to my kids."

"How many kids do you want to have?" asked Melissa.

"A lot of kids," Hannah replied. "I want a big house full of kids."

Melissa scoffed. "Are you sure your body can handle it?" Hannah had the similar, 'string-bean' body shape as her friend Melissa.

"I hope so," Hannah said. "I've seen how it happens, you know. Yes, it's scary and painful, but the idea of making a person, bringing a life into the world, it's so amazing. Besides, I could use the weight. And if anything bad happens, my magical scholar priest best friend is there to save the day." Both of them chuckled.

"Do you really think we'll still be friends?" Melissa asked.

"Of course," Hannah replied. "Friends forever."

Melissa smiled. "I hope so, too. Come on, then, Hannah. If we don't hurry up with these plants, we'll be cleaning old lady Puck's house forever."

The two girls picked up their shoes and placed them on their feet, then they rose up and climbed out of the river bank. They then opened their packs and examined the list of plants Lillian Puck wanted them to gather. They needed a bundle of mageroyal; an easy plant to find, as they could spot the petals that glistened in sunlight. Within less than seven yards from the river bank they found a thick cluster of mageroyal plants. The two girls knelt down beside the bush and began picking long stems; each one they were sure to choose stems with thick, healthy leaves and large, pink blossoms.

Suddenly Hannah sprang back from the bush with a cry. Melissa turned and saw her friend clutching her right hand, upon which were the bloody marks of a serpent's bite.

"I'll go and get help!" Melissa said.

"Please don't le..." Hannah began, but her words were cut short by a sickly gasp. Melissa's already pale face became even whiter as she saw Hannah gasping for breath as she clutched her hand.

Melissa helped Hannah get on her feet, then with one arm around her shoulder, began the walk back to the village. With every step, Melissa noticed Hannah was moving slower and slower. The nearest place they came to was Lillian's house, where Melissa banged on the door, calling for the old lady. A few moments later, the sound of locks being unfastened was heard, then the door creaked open a peep and the old lady appeared.

"Please, you have to help!" Melissa said. "A snake bit Hannah while we were gathering mageroyal..."

"Do I look like a bleeding healer to you?" Lillian retorted. "Go bother someone else!"

"But..."

"You think it's my fault, don't you, you little b*tch?" Lillian snapped. "Just like everyone else in this village; someone gets a nosebleed and old Lillian Puck is responsible for fixing it. If your friend sticks her hand into a snake's nest, she deserves what happens."

"Mrs. Puck, please..."

"Tell it someone who cares!" With that, Lillian slammed the door on the two girls. Melissa kicked the door with a frustrated grunt: how could old lady Puck send them to pick plants, then pretend like Hannah had been bit because of her own mistake? Her anger didn't last long, for Hannah was slouching against her shoulder, still gasping for breath.

"Hang in there, please!" Melissa muttered, tears welling up in her green eyes. Hannah did not respond. Already Melissa was starting to fear the worst: she had seen people swell up and die from snake-bites. Even though, at ten years old, Melissa had seen death, never before had someone she loved been this close to dying.

Suddenly a new thought came to her mind.

"Come on, Hannah," she said. "I'll get you help. Just stay with me!"

It was much longer to walk from Lillian's hovel to Father Preston's house than from the woods. Even worse, Hannah seemed to be moving slower and more sluggish than usual. Though neither of them were very heavy, for little Melissa, Hannah's body was getting heavier and heavier. Still she refused to give up, refused to surrender. Instead, she kept on plodding forward, urging herself to reach the rectory before it was too late.

At last she came to the door, where she pounded her fist as hard as she could. Unfortunately, he took longer to reach the door than Lillian Puck; he was getting slow in his old age. At last the door opened and Father Preston appeared.

"Light have mercy!" he exclaimed.

"Please, you have to help us!" Melissa begged. "My friend was bit by a snake, I don't know what's happening to her!"

"Bring her inside, quickly!" Father Preston said, giving Melissa a hand with carrying Hannah into his house. He propped her up on a chair and went to his book-shelf immediately.

"Usually an apothecary deals with these kinds of ailments, child," Father Preston said. "Have you spoken with Mrs. Puck?"

"She refused to help her," Melissa answered. "I didn't know where else to go."

"Don't worry," Father Preston assured her. "The Light is with us. Your friend will survive." Father Preston opened the little book he had, and began chanting softly in Old Azerothi: the language still used by priests and spell-weavers for their incantations. After a moment of such quiet chanting, he took Hannah's right hand in his.

To Melissa's amazement, she saw a small patch of light appear over the snake-bite. From the wound a pale-yellow substance was slowly drawn. It seemed to hover above Hannah's hand, then dissolved like salt in boiling water. Hannah gave a loud gasp, then collapsed back into the chair.

"Is she going to be alright?" Melissa asked.

"Yes, she will be fine," Father Preston said. "A little rest and in a few days, this will be nothing but a bad memory."

"Thank you, Father Preston!" Melissa said, throwing her arms around his middle.

"Don't thank me, child," the priest replied. "Thank the Light."

* * *

Within a few days, Hannah recovered exactly as Father Preston had predicted. Soon she was back at Melissa's side, romping through the woods every day in search of plants for Lillian Puck. Things seemed to be back to normal, except for Melissa. Ever since Hannah was healed, she became a little more sullen than usual. She revealed her thoughts to no one until the Loresday after the snake-bite.

After service, as her family was leaving the chapel, Melissa halted and walked over to Father Preston. At first he was busy putting away the implements of the service, then he noticed Melissa standing there.

"What is it, child?" he asked.

"I've been thinking about what happened," Melissa said. "That one day when you healed Hannah. I want you to teach me how to do that."

"A healing spell?" Father Preston asked. "It's not something that's taught. You have to earn it."

"What do you mean?"

"Those who dedicate their lives to serving the Light," Father Preston began. "Assume into their lives the Three Virtues, the first of which I have taught you. You've shown these virtues in nascent forms: when your friend was poisoned, you came all the way here to my house to heal her. You clearly have respect for the lives of others, not simply your own. You've shown great tenacity in bringing her out here all by yourself, and in your desire to help shows that you have, in some measure, compassion."

"I've read about the Three Virtues, father," Melissa replied.

"Novitiates of the Church of the Light spend their whole lives in service to the Light," Father Preston continued. "Studying the Three Virtues. For by applying these to your life may you understand what the Light desires of you. The more you practice these, the greater your connection to the Light will be. As time passes on, the Light will manifest itself on you in such fashion."

"Is that what the voice in the woods meant?" Melissa asked.

Father Preston paused. "Has there been another incident?"

"No," Melissa shook her head.

"What you told me the first time," Father Preston stated. "The things it told you, none of those things are against the Three Virtues. Continue to obey your parents and attend chapel every Loresday, and remember the Three Virtues. The Light can ask no more of you."

"And then I'll be able to heal, like you healed Hannah?" Melissa asked.

"If that is the will of the Light," Father Preston nodded. "But perhaps the Light wants something smaller of you, but no less important. My advice to you is to remain on the path you are now. If the Light has something planned for you, it will unravel in time as you walk the path of the Light."

"I still want to help you," Melissa said. "If I can get any time away from old lady Puck, I'd want to you help you any way that I can."

"I would be very grateful for your assistance, child," Father Preston smiled.

* * *

 **(AN: It was by this chapter that i realized that i needed a foil, an adherent to the Shadow, one who would cause discontent and disorder by their nihilistic beliefs.)**

 **(Furthermore, i'm almost certain that, lore-wise, the concept of the Three Virtues was something that began with the Humans and Dwarves. The High Elves don't seem to respect anyone but themselves, and they certainly have no sense of compassion: traits [or lack thereof] which were magnified by the destruction of the Sunwell and passed down to the Blood Elves. This will be addressed in this story in some detail, though not immediately [obviously].)**


	4. Tharbin

**(AN: I'm sure many of you have found Melissa Redmane to be "boring", since most _Warcraft_ fans find everything that i like [the Light, shamanism, the Vrykul, Northrend, the Tauren, humans, _Cataclysm_ , Thrall, Tyrande, Malfurion, etc.] to be boring, and everything that i hate [Garrosh, Illidan, the Void-lords, Sylvanas, the Nightbourne, Suramar, _Mists of Pandaria, Burning Crusade_ , etc.] to be amazing and interesting. Well, i threw in a bit of a monkey wrench into the story at this point, if that makes it "interesting" enough for you.)**

 **(If any of you from the _Exodar_ server on the Alliance side are reading this [which is no one, likely], this is the origin of this character's name, and the biggest in-joke in the world. Seriously, nobody could have guessed it without having it explained: so here we have this story which might shed some light on the origin of said name.)**

* * *

 **Tharbin**

Over the next few years, radical changes occurred in Melissa Field's life. Within three years, the spritely little girl began to come into her own: though she was still rather thin, she grew to a respectable height. But more than Melissa's stature changed in those three years. The rumors from the south became much more than simply rumors. From the wharf at Southshore came ships from Stormwind full of civilians, terrified civilians who had lost their homes. The chapel at Melissa's village was filled with refugees, and many people took the refugees into their houses, the Field family included. They spoke stories of giant green monsters, a great horde of savage warriors that had burned the Kingdom of Stormwind.

"They're monsters," the people said. "They devour everything in their way, these savage green-skins. They'll be coming here, make no mistake. They'll come here, and then we'll all be destroyed!"

The months that followed saw Hillsbrad in a frenzy of activity. Soldiers of Lordaeron, knights from the Northern boroughs, men-at-arms from the villages and country-side, were mustering for war. Melissa's family was not being pressed for service, as Colin Field was a miner and was needed by the King's army to mine ores for the making of swords, shields and armor.

But as the months turned to years, it seemed that war would visit this land very soon. Another three years passed and suddenly black ships appeared off the shore of Southshore. On a clear day, one could see them in the distance, like a haze dotting the blue-gray sea. Hundreds of ships under red banners bearing a black, horned icon that was unknown in the seven Eastern Kingdoms.

The people were mostly left for themselves, as the soldiers were fighting the enemy on the front-lines. Unfortunately, Colin Field was often away with the King's army as a miner. In the village, Melissa and her mother Maryem had the run of the house to themselves; but every day was filled with trepidation over the worry for their father and husband. More than often they, along with the rest of the village, gathered in the chapel to pray for the protection of the soldiers of Lordaeron.

On one such day they were assembled, earnestly praying for the protection of their loved ones. Both of Hannah's parents had joined the King's army, and she stayed at the Field house with Melissa and her mother. Today most of the village were gathered together in the chapel, led by Father Preston, in earnest prayer.

"Today," Father Preston said. "We remember our brothers and sisters in the King's army. They fight for our freedom, and for the safety of our land from the Horde. The Holy Light is with us, for we uphold the Three Virtues: every man and woman in the King's army shows great respect for our lives, and the lives of all those who were destroyed in the siege of Stormwind, and for the future safety of Lordaeron. Our soldiers are determined to give everything in defense of our land. And it is with compassion for our people that we will not repay destruction with more destruction, but bring about a swift and just end to the Horde, one that is met with mercy and not the savagery they brought upon Stormwind."

Suddenly a loud scoffing sound was heard from the entrance of the chapel. All eyes turned thither, where they saw Lillian Puck standing in the entrance of the chapel. She had never in living memory attended chapel, not even when the war with the Horde began. This was certainly a surprise.

"Fools, the lot of you!" she said. "You sit here in your chapel, chanting and mumbling, thinking your precious Light will save you? Ha! The Horde destroyed Stormwind, turned the Black Morass into a blasted wasteland. There is no power in the Light: there is no light! There is only one true, efficacious power in this world: the burning shadow. That is the power that the Horde serves! You are all going to die, all of you! Your men are not coming back from war, and you - women, children, old, young - you will all burn!"

"This is a meeting of peace, Lillian," Father Preston spoke. "We are here to pray for the safe return of our brothers and sons. I will ask you kindly to leave and not trouble us any further."

"Shut up, Lillian!" mocked old lady Puck. "That's all you priests and prelates ever tell me! You have not the balls to face a true servant of the shadow! You feed these people lies! Yes, lies. You tell them that they are safe, that in the Light, their simple lives have some meaning. It is nothing! You are all food for the burning shadow: we all are! Soon this world will be devoured! You will all sink into the nameless void!"

"Take her away!" a woman from the crowd of devotees cried.

"We'll have no more of this!" another said.

"Silence me all you want," Lillian shouted as two young men seized her by the arms and dragged her out of the chapel. "But the shadow is stronger than your precious light. You will all die!"

Unfortunately, the mood was spoiled by Lillian Puck's interruption. Everyone went back to their houses, with Melissa trailing on behind her mother and Hannah as they returned home: only passively hearing the conversation that went on between Hannah and her mother.

"Why is she so mean?" Hannah asked.

"Not entirely sure," Maryem replied. "I've heard that she was a Kirin Tor mage who was banished from Dalaran. Another story said that she was driven out of the last village she lived in because of her...unusual habits. Others say that her life is a sad story, and that she's been bitter about it ever since. Whatever it was, it's a great thing to make anyone that bitter."

"It seems unfair, though," Hannah stated. "That she would spread her hurt to other people, rather than trying to help people."

At this point, Melissa paused, turned around, and walked back into the chapel. Father Preston noticed her approach.

"This is highly inappropriate, my child," he said.

"Why?" Melissa asked. "It's been, what, six years since I began learning under you?"

"Yes," Father Preston replied. "Now, you are a young woman. If it weren't for the War, I would have suggested that your father find you a husband."

Melissa grinned. "He'd tell you that he intends for me to be a scholar in Dalaran."

"A prestigious goal," Father Preston said. "And an expensive one. Not everyone is allowed permission to study in the city of mages. Doubtless you will learn much about the Holy Light from the many tomes in the library of Dalaran."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Melissa replied. "What old lady Puck said today, during the service..."

"Oh, about the burning shadow coming to devour us?" Father Preston asked.

"Is it true?" Melissa asked.

Father Preston made sure that the chapel was empty, then spoke; though he did not look directly at Melissa as he spoke to her.

"There are rumors," Father Preston began. "That the orcs, the green-skinned monsters of the Horde, do not worship the Light, but a strange power, the power of demons: the power of the Fel. Perhaps this is the burning shadow of which Lillian Puck speaks."

"Is it stronger, father?" Melissa asked. "I...I don't mean to doubt the Light, but my father is working the mining camps of the King's army. I want him to come home safely."

"Well, every light has a shadow," Father Preston evasively replied. "Some scholars say that every power has some equal and opposite counter-balance."

"What do you believe?" Melissa asked, insistent.

"I believe that the Light grows in strength through the actions of the devout," Father Preston stated gravely. "In these dark times, it's easy to lose faith. But now is the time when faith must grow stronger. One who doubts cannot act, but those who act in faith will find that the Light makes all things possible. Does that answer your question?"

"Thank you, father," Melissa smiled.

"Now go on, then, child," Father Preston said. "Your mother is waiting for you. Furthermore, I think we should see less of each other from now on."

"What are you saying?" Melissa asked, her smile fading.

"You'll always be welcome at the chapel," Father Preston said. "But you're almost a grown woman, now. If we continue seeing each other, people will talk."

"Everyone in the village knows us," Melissa chuckled. "They know what we do. What _could_ they say?"

"You can't be this naive, child," Father Preston shook his head. "Do you know what men and women do when they're alone?"

"Yes, Hannah told me about it," Melissa stated. Then her eyes widened as she realized what was being said. "Oh, Light's mercy! No, of course not! I mean, you're like an uncle to me. Why would I ever..."

"Of course you wouldn't, child," Father Preston replied. "And neither would I. Despite what Lillian Puck says, not every priest takes advantage of his flock. But it is not proper that we keep meeting like this."

"What about my training?" Melissa asked. "I want to learn to use the Light to help people, like you helped Hannah."

"And you will, Light willing," Father Preston said. "But not under my tutelage." Melissa lowered her gaze. "Do not be sad, child. There are many other prelates in Lordaeron, ones with more knowledge than I have. You will be well-taught. Besides, if you, perchance, are unable to go to the Temple of Light in Stratholme, you can borrow any of my books at any time you want."

"I'd rather learn from you," Melissa insisted. "I know you, I trust you."

"I know you do, child," Father Preston sighed. "But when a woman comes to your age, there are certain things that are expected of her. A young, unmarried woman cannot be paying visits alone to an older man who is not her father." Melissa sighed, her eyes falling to the ground. Another beloved person was disappearing from her life, it seemed. The words of Lillian Puck came back into mind, taunting her, filling her mind with doubt.

But then other words appeared.

"May the Light be with you," Father Preston said, holding up his hand in a gesture of blessing. She nodded, then turned to leave.

* * *

But as the days of this awful, bloody war continued, hope seemed to wain. The black dots on the edge of the sea's horizon became nearer and nearer. In a few weeks, they were now visible as massive war-ships. Then the lights came. Every night lights filled the beautiful, beloved forests of Hillsbrad, and the stillness of the night was filled with the endless pounding of drums and deep, harsh, guttural voices chanting in a tongue that none in the village knew. Those who dared to venture out into the woods, whether by day or by night, never came back. Those who remained within the village feared an attack at any moment. The poorer ones kept their pitch-forks, hammers, hoes, spades, clubs and spears within reach, ready to defend themselves in case of an attack: those with better weapons had volunteered to join the King's army.

Scant news reached the village from without, but the lights from the orc encampments beyond their borders made them fearful that the King's army had been defeated. Every night, they fell asleep to the sound of drums echoing through the woods, pounding out the hours until some great doom would be visited upon them. In the Field house, Melissa was paralyzed with fear every night. Her father was away, dead for all she knew, and merciless beasts waited in her beloved woods, ready to fall down upon them at any moment and reek destruction and chaos. The words of Lillian Puck came uninvited into her mind.

"Light, give me strength," she prayed. "Let my father come home soon. Let peace return to my homeland."

The days wore on, sullen and gray with the smoke from burning villages: yet for some reason, their village was spared. The nights were filled with the sound of drums and war chants in the orcish tongue: yet still their village survived. Then one night there was the sound of battle, of steel clashing against steel. When the dawn came, there was still smoke in the sky, but during the nights the drums ceased. News finally began to pour in: there was no 'King's army', but a great Alliance of all the kingdoms, of men, Elves, Dwarves and Gnomes. The Alliance had struck a mighty blow against the Horde, who were now leaderless, shattered and in retreat. By and by the armies of the Alliance drove the Horde out of Lordaeron, continuing southward, pushing them back into the hell from whence they came.

But every victory comes with a cost, and this cost was great. The darkest months were over, and in time most of the Alliance forces returned to their homes. Many eyes in the village were filled with tears: tears of joy upon being reunited with their loved ones, and tears of sadness upon hearing the news that theirs had fallen in battle against the Horde. For the Field family, the tears they shed were tears of joy. Colin Field returned home wounded, but with a smile on his face: Light be praised, he was alive and his family had survived as well. The wounds he had received were at the hands of the orcs during a raid on the Alliance camp where he had been stationed; they had attacked the miners as well as the soldiers.

"Oh, the monsters!" wept Maryem. "Did they have no mercy?"

"Not an ounce," Colin shook his head. "But these few scratches are nothing, my love. I'm more than lucky to have come back to find you both alive and well." He then wrapped Maryem and Melissa in his arms.

But his wounds were more than nothing, as time would soon tell. Colin was optimistic in his surviving the war with the Horde, what those thereafter called the Second War. He bore his scars with pride, and, for the rest of his life, would show them off at the inn in Southshore to anyone who asked about the War. But he was not the same. Over the first couple of weeks, he worked hard at his job in the mines, trying to make up for the time taken away. But the wounds he bore made him slower than before, weaker than before: he could not work the same trying job at the same hours.

Something had to be done in the meantime.

* * *

Two years had passed since the Horde ships appeared in the bay of Southshore, signaling the start of the Second War. Melissa was now eighteen years old, no longer the little girl who ran through the woods of Hillsbrad, but a beautiful young woman. Her responsibilities had grown since the War ended, as her mother and father were older and not as strong as in their younger days: especially her father, due to his wounds. Thus it was that she often went to the market to buy food for the family, as her mother was often busy at home. Such it was on this day, coming home from the market with a basket full of food: bread, vegetables, meats and fruits. As she entered the door, she saw that her parents were entertaining guests.

"Oh, I didn't know we were having guests over," Melissa stated. One of the guests, she realized, was a young man about her own age. Though she didn't have the same strong desire for marriage as her friend Hannah Farmer, she still became strangely self-conscious about her appearance whenever she passed a handsome young man in the streets, or if their eyes per-chanced to meet during chapel.

"Melissa," Colin spoke. "I'm glad you're here. You know the Redmanes, I'm sure?"

"The farmers from the north-side of the village?" Melissa nodded. "Yes, I know about them."

The two guests arose. One was an older man with a long strawberry blond beard that was going gray. The younger man was his son, whose hair was more red than blond, and hadn't fully grown into his beard yet. Both of them were well-built and ruddy, from years of working on their farm on the northern hills. She had often passed the Redmane farm in her childhood, on her way to the woods. She knew that they had a large family, but, as hers was one of the more important families in the village, she did not spend much time with them.

"Hello there," the elder of the two men greeted. "My name is Talus Redmane. This is my son Tharbin." He gestured to the young man standing beside him, who smiled at Melissa: he still had all of his teeth, which surprised Melissa. Most stories she heard about farming folk were that they were ignorant, toothless mongrels.

"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Redmane," Melissa returned. "If I may ask, what's the meaning of this visit?"

"Oh," Talus replied. "Your father and I have entered into negotiations of a betrothal."

"Whose betrothal?" Melissa asked.

"Why, yours," Talus said. "To my son."

Melissa had to catch the basket as it fell from her hands in shock. She didn't make an answer, for her mouth was hanging open. After the initial shock, she stammered.

"M-Marriage?" she asked. "You're...talking about...marriage?"

"Yes, that's right," Colin nodded. "Well, you can't stay with us forever. The Redmanes are good people, fine reputation. Tharbin is a hard worker; he'll provide for you. Besides, this is just a betrothal: there's no wedding being planned right away. Over the next few months, you'll get to know each other before you're married."

Melissa did not make an answer.

"The girl's so moved, she's speechless!" Talus exclaimed with a chuckle. "Well, I think we should be going. We can continue our business another time, eh, Colin? There's ground to be tilled. Come along, Tharbin."

"Good day, Melissa," Tharbin said as he and his father were leaving. "We'll see each other soon." She returned an uneasy smile and nodded at them, stepping aside as they passed out the door. Once they left, Melissa closed the door behind them as Maryem entered the living room.

"You're back," Maryem said with a worried tone in her voice. "Listen, dear, it wasn't an easy decision."

"Is that so?" Melissa asked, trying her best to keep her voice from cracking. "Well, it certainly sounded easy."

"Melissa, please," Maryem continued. "Things aren't the way they used to be. Your father can't work as hard as he used to, but that doesn't stop the extra expenses. It's hard enough to support a house of three with so little work, but now there's the new taxes."

"Damn the new taxes!" Colin grumbled. "Why they couldn't just get rid of them all instead of building the internment camps and footing us with the bill is beyond me."

"We simply can't afford it, the money's just not there!" Maryem continued.

"I was going to go to the Violet City!" Melissa finally broke, tears streaming down her face. "I was going to be educated as a scholar. Now you want me to give all that up and get married to someone I barely know?"

"Tharbin is a good man," Colin said. "A hard worker, and that's a fine compliment to give a farmer, coming from a miner. He'll make a fine husband."

"But..."

"Dammit, girl, do you think this is easier for me?" Colin exploded, his face flushed. "I sweated in the mines for eighteen years to elevate my girl to a noble profession, and all of that thrown away because..." He paused, unwilling to admit that he had been to weak to work.

Melissa did not respond, but placed the basket back down and stormed out of the house. Picking up her skirt, she ran as fast as she could until she found herself back in the glade: the same glade where she had first heard the voice of the Light. It was not as she remembered it: most the grass had been beaten down to bare earth by the iron-shod feet of the orcs, and some of the trees had been cut down and hewn into spiked logs for palisade walls (some of the pieces of which were still standing). Into the midst of the bare, lifeless glade Melissa ran, tears streaming down her eyes. She threw herself to the center of the ground, gazing up at the sky: the sun was hidden behind the trees, partly on its way into the west.

"Is this what you want of me?" she asked, her voice breaking and her eyes streaming with tears. "You told me to obey my parents. They want to take me away from you! I can't do it, I don't wanna do it!" She threw herself onto the bare earth, hot tears streaming down her face. She did not move, nor felt she the desire to move. All she wanted was to stay here and weep until the Light spoke again.

For how long she remained there she neither knew nor cared. Eventually, however, she felt someone's hand on her shoulder. Then she heard a familiar voice: the voice of Father Preston.

"What's wrong, child?" he asked, though she was clearly not a child. With tears still hot upon her pale cheeks, Melissa told Father Preston of what she had been told about her future.

"Most people find marriage to be a happy thing," Father Preston stated. "Why is it not so for you?"

"I would be giving up my education as a scholar," Melissa bemoaned. "My future as a scribe would be forever gone. And I don't think I could serve the Light and be somebody's wife."

"Nonsense," Father Preston returned.

"Aren't priests supposed to be celibate?" asked Melissa. "I can't serve the Light and be married, can I, father?"

"There _is_ some debate about the legitimacy of celibacy..."

"Answer me plainly, father!" Melissa insisted.

"Look, it doesn't matter," Father Preston said. "All those who walk the path of the Light, living by the Three Virtues, are blessed by the Light. Perhaps your purpose is to be somebody's wife, but that does not mean that the Light has abandoned you."

Melissa threw herself back onto the ground and buried her face in her arms. "I wish things were simpler."

"So do I, child," Father Preston sympathetically replied. "And so do many others. But this is a complicated world: all we can do is what the Light is asked of us. Perhaps this too is a trial sent to you by the Light to test your tenacity and determination."

Slowly, Melissa rose from where she lay, wiping her eyes of the tears. "Pray for me, please."

"I will, child," Father Preston said. "I always have and always will."

* * *

 **(AN: Though it's basically just a few paragraphs, I was able to dedicate some time to describing what life would have been like during the invasion of the Horde. As I've seen the deleted scenes from the _Warcraft_ movie [and liked it and the base film], i based the atmosphere of the Orc camps on the deleted scene where Grom tells Durotan and Orgrim [or Lolgrim as he was in that scene] about the Fel. So much for "we will never be slaves", silly paste-eater! But the whole scene of orcs speaking in their ancient tongue and tribalistic drums beating throughout the night helped to create the fearful atmosphere that must have stricken fear into the hearts of many humans living in Hillsbrad.)**

 **(I noticed that i failed to mention Perenholde, who might have been considered the "ruler" of the Hillsbrad region more so than King Terenas. Of course, as i stated in my _Soul Calibur_ fics, many things happen concurrently to the main story: I've tended to write things that are pertinent to the main plot, but that doesn't mean those other things didn't happen.)**


	5. The Prayer

**(AN: You have no idea how much i hate writing romance in my stories. Every step of the way i feel that it's fake and forced. But for this one, i've attempted to try something completely different: no smut or lots of soap opera stuff. Their relationship will develop in a way that isn't typical for a romance. Here i've taken inspiration from a third source: the real life Maria von Trapp.)**

* * *

 **The Prayer**

When Hannah Farmer learned that her best friend was going to be married, she was jubilant and superficially disappointed. After all, she was the one who wanted to be married more than Melissa, and yet it was the scholar-to-be who would be betrothed.

"Is it my fate," Hannah teasingly asked. "To want what I'll never have?"

"Don't think that way," Melissa dismissed. "Someday you will find a husband who will give you the married life you want and all the children you could hope for."

It was in that moment when Melissa realized that she would be expected to have children as well. The Redmanes were a large family; farmers' families often were very large, as many hands were needed to tend the farm. Doubtless her husband-to-be would want to follow suit. Furthermore she had never given her maidenhead away to anyone, and the thought of a man touching her was a worrisome thought.

"Light have mercy!" she breathed.

"Don't worry," Hannah teased. "Likely, he won't be interested in having children. You are, after all, quite thin."

Melissa let out an uneasy chuckle. "As are you."

"I wouldn't worry if I were you," Hannah replied.

But Melissa did worry. Despite what Hannah had said, Melissa felt as though she was the one who was wanting what she could never have. After her talk in the barren glade with Father Preston, she had more or less accepted the betrothal as an inevitability. Nevertheless, the future was fearful and uncertain to say the least: as most people would be in such situations, Melissa was afraid.

As time passed, Melissa realized that the betrothal was not as serious as she had feared. She would be living at the Redmane house, but in her own bedroom. Though her father couldn't get about as much as he used to, both he and Maryem would stop over to see that she was well-cared for and not neglected. Her time at the Redmane house also was not as fearful as she believed. The Redmane family was very large, seven children with Tharbin the middle child: most of her time there was spent around Selvina Redmane, Talus' wife and her future mother-in-law, and Tharbin's younger sisters. With them she learned the life of a farmer's wife, what would eventually be her life. Mostly these were the chores which she performed at her own house for most of her life.

She spent very little time with her betrothed. The men of the house arose early in the morning, ate breakfast, then went out into the fields and did not return until nigh on to evening for dinner. The midday meal was carried out to them by the women, but Melissa and Tharbin had little time to talk in these brief moments. As part of the betrothal arrangement, neither Melissa nor Tharbin were permitted to share the same bed until the wedding; this was upheld strickly by the Redmanes, who were especially devout and moral folk.

Three months had passed with Melissa living with the Redmanes. The routine of the men going out into the fields to work had already become habitual. After a hearty and large breakfast for ten people, the men went on their way into the fields. Selvina and the girls had finished cleaning when they discovered that they were out of flour. Selvina rounded up the girls and went off to the market to buy flour, insisting that Melissa stay behind, despite her offers to help.

"You've been a great help these past months," Selvina said. "You've earned some time to rest and relax. Just don't get too comfortable: the work never ends around here."

For the next few hours, Melissa had time for herself that was not spent cleaning the house. She went back to her room and pulled out her scholar's bag. This she took to the kitchen, which she opened and placed upon the table a book, a few sheets of vellum, an ink-horn and quill. Once all of this was set up, she began to write. Her scribal lessons were carried out in her old home, under the tutelage of private tutors. These had continued up until the War with the Horde began, when her family could not afford to continue lessons. However, Melissa had come a long way with her lessons and was now a prolific writer. She had little skill for poetry, so her writings were mostly prose in the form of journal entries about the day-to-day lives in her village.

* * *

"Is that what this book is about?" Xing asked, pointing with one of her manicured claws to the large book in which Melissa had been writing when she joined the table.

"Exactly," Melissa replied. "Though this is only the latest volume. I've written books about all the strange places I've been and all the things I can remember: the blood plague of Zul'Gurub, the assault on the Sunwell Plateau, the invasion of Northrend, the Wrathgate, the Argent Tournament, the Cataclysm, and most of everything in between. This book here starts with the escalation prior to the rediscovery of Pandaria."

"Have you spoken with Lorewalker Cho?" Xing inquired. "He could have talked the ears off the statues in the Vale of Eternal Blossoms. There'd be plenty of things about the rich, ancient history of Pandaria that could fill several of your books."

"I don't doubt it," smiled Melissa. "But if I may please continue, the best part of the story is coming soon."

"Oh yes, go ahead," Xing said. "My mug is empty, I'll just order another one. Are you _sure_ you don't want a bite to eat in the meantime?"

"No," Melissa dismissed. "I'll have quite an appetite after finishing this story, wouldn't want to spoil it."

"I don't understand why you humans are so picky," Xing said, shaking her head. "Any time is a good time to eat."

"Things are different with us," Melissa replied. "Now, as I was saying, the best part of the story is about to happen."

* * *

Melissa was surprised when the door opened. The market, she knew, was quite a good hike from the Redmane farm, therefore it couldn't be Selvina or the girls. The men, also, weren't due back in until noon, which was still an hour or two away. Therefore Melissa was even more surprised when she saw Tharbin standing by the back-door, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. It was the first time, Melissa realized, that the two of them had been alone. Inwardly she became self-conscious about herself: her dress still bore the stains from cleaning up breakfast and her hair was falling out of the pony-tail into which she had tied it.

"Oh, I didn't know anyone was here," Tharbin muttered.

"Hi!" Melissa returned, smiling widely. "Do you need something?"

Tharbin muttered, but didn't give a clear answer. It was at this moment that Melissa noticed that Tharbin cut a particularly impressive frame. Perhaps there was some corner of Melissa's mind, long deferred until now, or maybe it was that this was the first man whom fate had made available to her: either way, she noticed that her face was blushing and averted her eyes. The young man turned to depart, then turned back to the table.

"What you're doing there," Tharbin said, pointing to her books. "You can read?"

"Yes," Melissa nodded. "And I write as well."

"Is...is that so?" Tharbin stammered, a wizened expression on his face.

"Yes," Melissa replied. She noticed that Tharbin hesitated, as though he had something on his mind but couldn't articulate it. "Did you want something?"

"Um..." Tharbin replied. "Well, you see, there was this thing that I w...well, I didn't know at first, because I didn't know that you, well..."

"Are you okay?" Melissa asked; strangely she found his face, furrowed in concentration, a bit amusing.

"I didn't know you could read, or...or write," he continued. "But now that I do, well, there's something I would like to ask you, if that's okay..."

"Sure," Melissa replied.

"You see," Tharbin began. "It's these new taxes. Ever since the war ended, they've been getting steadily higher. I know there's nothing as can be done about the taxes themselves, but, well, we've paid this month's taxes but the collectors say we haven't. Ma keeps the records, but, well, I've never learned to read. Always been busy with the farm and all."

"That sounds like something that's not my business," Melissa said.

"Please..."

"Look, I'd like to help," Melissa replied. "But this is your family's taxes. I think your parents should handle this themselves."

"See, that's the thing, though," Tharbin stated. "The farm's not been doing its best lately. Our yield this year is going to be less than half of what it was last year, and that wasn't a good year either. Pa, my brothers and me have been working hard just to make ends meet, and we won't be able to pay double if the collectors charge, which they will."

"What can I do?" Melissa asked.

"Well, seeing as how nobody else is here," Tharbin replied. "I can show you where Ma keeps the record book. Maybe you can go through it, find where last month's payment record is, then maybe we can show it to the collectors once they show up next week."

"I'm sorry, I really can't," Melissa dismissed. "I mean, your family have been nothing but good to me, and I would help any way that I could. But this is really personal stuff..."

"Please," Tharbin insisted. "My Ma and Pa work hard enough to support us all, and they've already paid last month, I'm sure of it. If we're charged extra this month, we won't have enough to pay for next month. If they find out, I'll take the blame for it."

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Melissa asked.

"I'd do anything for my family," Tharbin said. "After all they've done for me: would you do any less for your family?"

Melissa was speechless. For the first time she saw Tharbin, her husband to be, as more than just something that had interrupted her plans for her life. Here was someone who loved his family as much as she loved her own. This war had hurt everyone and many sacrifices were being made by all. Suddenly a realization came upon her: even with six able-bodied men, the Redmane family were struggling as much as her family, financially secure with only one man working at less than half his normal efficiency. Her parents were truly unable to financially support all three of them.

"I'll see what I can do," Melissa agreed at last.

Tharbin smiled, and Melissa found herself smiling back. He went up the stairs to his mother's room, and Melissa found herself wishing that she could see him smile again. Moments later, Tharbin came back down with a large book which he placed on the table.

"Here's the book," Tharbin said. "Now I have to get back to the field before I'm missed. I'm very grateful."

"Thanks," Melissa returned.

As Tharbin left the house, Melissa warily opened the ledger and began pouring through it. The ledger was thorough, but rather cluttered. This came as a surprise, considering how immaculate Selvina Redmane kept the house at all times. It took a little time, but eventually Melissa founded an entry dated from last month that showed a deficit for tax collection. Suddenly the door was opened and she saw Selvina and the girls standing behind her.

"What is that?" Selvina asked. "Is that my ledger?"

"Uh, Mrs. Redmane," Melissa stammered. "I can explain..."

"Explain what?" Talus' voice interjected. From the back-door appeared the men of the Redmane family, with Talus at the head.

"Our future daughter-in-law is rifling through our financial ledger!" Selvina accused.

"I just..."

"Melissa had nothing to do with this," Tharbin interjected, stepping up to Melissa's side. "It was me. I told her that we were having financial troubles. Since she knows how to read, I convinced her to give a look-through: maybe she could help."

"Well, if you have such great influence over your betrothed," Selvina indicated. "Maybe you could have told her _not_ to meddle with things that aren't her concern!"

"I thought it was her concern very much," Tharbin interjected. "She's part of this family. I thought this was the best way she could help..."

At that moment there was a knock on the door. All eyes turned to see a portly man in rich, gray velvet, wearing a black cloak pinned with a pendant with the emblem of Lordaeron. Melissa recognized him as the royal tax collector, who appeared in the village every month for the collection of the King's taxes: the only person who was less welcome than Lillian Puck.

"Ah, the Redmanes are all here," he greeted with a smug grin. "Hopefully hard at work to pay the King's taxes. Oh, that's right: according to my records, you've missed last month's taxes. What a shame, really."

"That's not true," Melissa interrupted. "I have here a note in the family ledger that shows that last month's taxes were paid on time." She opened the ledger, pointing to the entry in question.

"A forgery," dismissed the tax collector. "Pay the King's taxes now."

"In fact," Melissa stated. "I've heard about you, Lorthis Maneros, chief tax-collector of the former Kingdom of Alterac. I've also heard of your altering of tax records to allow you to over-tax the citizens."

"This is an outrage!" Lorthis returned. "You dare slander a servant of the King!"

"This house has paid its dues," Melissa retorted. "And now you're fleecing us for your own sake. Exactly how much of your tax revenue actually goes to the King's coffers? Or perhaps we _should_ begin an investigation? I'm sure you wouldn't mind showing the King your records, would you?"

"You're bluffing," Lorthis returned.

"Have you been stealing from us?" Talus asked, stepping up towards the tax collector: he was taller and built better than the collector.

"This is ridiculous!" Lorthis sneared.

"Admit it!" Melissa replied, anger building up within her. "You've been over-charging us to line your own pockets!"

"Alright, alright!" Lorthis admitted, suddenly buckling. "It's true. But it was only one percent, a very small amount. A man has to make a living somehow these days."

Melissa was surprised at how easily the tax collector had melted before him. Selvina took the ledger from Melissa's hands, and her eyes were taken off Lorthis for a moment. It was in that moment that Lorthis composed himself, gazing angrily up at Talus Redmane.

"Just be sure to pay your taxes," he retorted, then stormed off on a turn of his heel. The men returned outside to put their tools away for the midday meal, while the women went about preparing it: without help from Melissa, as Selvina didn't make eye contact with her after the tax collector left.

For the rest of the day everyone seemed to avoid Melissa. At dinner, Selvina left the cleaning up to Melissa and went to bed with the girls. As the men were leaving, Tharbin remained behind.

"You're still here?" she asked. "Do you need anything?"

"I just wanted to apologize for my parents," Tharbin returned. "I'm aware Ma gave you hell for going through her ledger. They're very stubborn and traditional and would have rather solved their problems themselves. Don't worry, Da gave me a stern reprimand for putting you up to it."

"You shouldn't have done it," Melissa said.

"I've always wanted to help them," Tharbin stated. "They're too proud to ask, and I don't have the skills to do it myself. But enough about me: I just wanted to say that what you did to the tax collector, that was amazing!"

"It's nothing, really," Melissa spoke, a little taken back at Tharbin's enthusiasm. "My father knows a man who had dealings with him. He's as corrupt as Lord Perenholde."

"How did you convince him to let us off?" Tharbin asked. "Ma and Da never could have convinced him to give us a break."

"I don't know," Melissa returned. That was true. "I guess I was just feeling upset over what we had talked about before he appeared. You know, the taxes and all."

"I'm sorry," Tharbin apologized. "I didn't mean to upset you..."

"It wasn't you that upset me," Melissa said. "I suppose I've felt this way for a while. Ever since..." She realized what she was about to say and stopped herself and corrected. "...since my father came home wounded. Hearing you talk made me realize just how much the taxes hurt everyone: your family as well as my family. I guess I lost my temper on him."

"I liked it," Tharbin replied. "I'd have cleaned his clock myself, except we can't afford to lose any more farm-hands."

"I understand," Melissa nodded.

"Uh, could I ask something else of you?"

"Oh no, not this time," Melissa chuckled. "I'd rather not have your parents hate me..."

"Oh, they don't hate you," Tharbin replied. "They're just choking on their pride. Give it a few days and they'll be grateful and forget the whole thing. Well, maybe Ma will take longer: but you'll see. The thing I want to ask, well, I'm not sure how to say it..." His brow furrowed the same way it did before when he asked her to examine the ledger: Melissa bit her lower lip to suppress a grin.

"You can start by just saying it," she said.

"It's difficult to ask," Tharbin stated. "You know, I'm to be the man of my...our own household in about nine months. A man is supposed to be self-sufficient, that's what Da always told me. That's why it was so hard to ask what I did this morning. It's such a trouble, really..."

"You're talking a lot, but not saying much of anything," Melissa chuckled. "Jut say it, it's okay."

"Well, I was wondering if you could teach me to read and write. Ma and Da won't be upset by it, honest. I'd be unstoppable: farmer, militia, and learned in letters!"

Melissa smiled, then noticed that Tharbin saw her smiling and was smiling in return.

"Is that a yes?"

She blushed furiously, lowering her head to try to capture her composure. "Yes, I'll teach you how to read. There's just one problem."

"Problem?"

"When are we going to have lessons?" she asked. "You're working all day, and we only see each other during meal-times."

"Right now."

"But I have to clean up..."

"Here, I'll give you a hand."

The two of them went about the cleaning, spending more time together than they had in the past three months. Melissa was amazed at how giddy she became around him, smiling and giggling half the time and worrying about her appearance the rest. It was most unusual, and yet for some reason, she found that, in the moment, she didn't care if she appeared silly or ridiculous.

* * *

"Hello?" Xing asked, waving a paw in front of Melissa's face. "Are you still there?"

"Hmm?" Melissa replied, roused from her moment of drifting off into pleasant memories. "Oh, yes. I'm sorry. I was lost in old memories."

"More sad ones?" Xing asked.

"No," Melissa dismissed. "Happy memories. Some of my favorite memories."

"About the farmer?" Xing wondered. "That's a noble profession, tending the land and feeding people."

"Yes," Melissa smiled. "I have many happy memories with him. We were betrothed for a year, during which I taught him how to read and I learned, from his family, how to live and work as a farmer's wife. What started out as a little infatuation grew into something...much different."

"How different?" Xing asked.

"I've read many stories and poems about people falling in love," Melissa said. "It always seems to be some sort of violent passion that overwhelms the senses, turns people mad. It wasn't that way at all for me. First we were together most every night, as I was teaching him how to read. Over the time, I found myself counting the hours until we had our lessons together. Then one day he read me a poem, just out of the blue. I..." She lowered her gaze.

"Is this a bad memory?" Xing asked.

"No," chuckled Melissa. "Just embarrassing. I mean, it sounds silly, but at the moment, I just realized that I sincerely enjoyed spending time with him, and that he enjoyed being around me as well. That was the first time we kissed." Xing chuckled, hiding her face with her paw.

"Eventually his parents did come to trust me and, six months after the end of our betrothal, our parents arranged for the wedding six months from the date, during the spring-time. That's usually when weddings are held in most cultures, I've heard."

"Yes," Xing nodded. "It is the same in Pandaria."

"It was one of the few happy moments I would have in the years that followed," Melissa stated. "My family was there, all of their friends, Hannah, all of Tharbin's family. Half of the village, in fact! I was wearing this gorgeous white dress with a crown of flowers on my head: I looked like one of those Night Elf priestesses of the Moon. Tharbin was in a stunning suit that must have cost him more than he could afford. Father Preston did the honors..." She blinked back tears.

* * *

Old Father Preston hobbled up to the altar, assisted by a blackthorn cane. He was old when Melissa was ten, and nine years had brought upon him an unfortunate case of stiff joints. Despite this, the dear heart agreed to the ceremony and went all out in adorning the chapel for the occasion. He now stood behind the couples, citing an old ceremonial marriage rite.

Melissa, meanwhile, was clandestinely casting glances at the crowd. Her parents were there, with Colin beaming proudly and Maryem weeping into her kerchief. The Redmanes, on their side of the aisle, were smiling with equal vim and vigor. Hannah was all smiles, though Melissa knew that she was wishing that she were in Melissa's place. She turned back to Tharbin and smiled: it didn't matter who saw her smile, for she had eyes only for him.

"...even as we are one in the Light," Father Preston concluded. "So now will these two souls become one. Let them never be torn asunder, in this life or the next. Tharbin Redmane, do you take this woman to be your wife in all things, with love, care and respect for her above all others until your final breath?"

"Yes, father," Tharbin replied.

"And do you, Melissa Field, take this man to be your husband in all things, with love, care and respect for him above all others until your final breath?"

"Yes," Melissa smiled.

"May these two be joined together for all time," pronounced Father Preston. "As husband and wife, and never be parted in this life or the next. And may the Light bless this union for all the days of their lives!"

They kissed amid a hail of cheers and tossed rice. Once they parted, they stood for a moment, beaming at each other without a care in the world. They then made their way down the aisle of the chapel, feeling happier than they had been their entire lives. As they were passing through the chapel door, Melissa suddenly realized that she had one final obstacle ahead of her: Light willing, she would not be facing it alone.

* * *

"And, well..." Melissa clicked her tongue. "The rest is none of your business."

"Oh, come, now!" Xing protested. "We were just getting to the best part!"

"If you want a story about sex," Melissa replied. "Read a steamy romance novel. I happen to respect what happened between Tharbin and I, and would rather not share it with anyone." She then added, thinking she had been too curt: "Even with friends."

"Well, is that it, then?" Xing asked. "Is the story over?"

"Unfortunately not," Melissa sighed. "Here is where the story starts to become less happy. But it's both the journey and the destination that count, the good and the bad."

* * *

The wedding night was over. Melissa was amazed at what had transpired. Tharbin was asleep, but she was still lying awake. Despite what had happened, she was still feeling reticent. She felt as though the Light hadn't spoken to her since that day in the glade. She had done everything she was supposed to, even sacrificed her future as a scholar to respect the wishes of her parents. Doubt was starting to fill her being, and old words returned from the grave. Wrapping herself in her blanket, she sat up in bed and looked out the little window of Tharbin's room.

"Light," she thought, speaking in her heart rather than with her tongue. "It's been nine years since we last spoke. I've done everything you've asked of me, yet I feel as though you've abandoned me. Please, tell me what I have to do next. I want to help."

Outside the window, the moons were hidden and the sky was filled with stars. One of them afar off twinkled brighter than the others. Then a voice, like the song, clear ringing of tiny silver bells, was heard in Melissa Redmane's mind.

 _We have never abandoned you, child of the Light,_ said the voice. _Your greatest task lies ahead of you, one in which you will be a beacon of the Light's mercy in the darkest hours of your world. For now, there is one final test: one last travail before you finally learn the true value of life. For only then will you be ready to heal the hurts of your world._

As the voice began to fade, Melissa found that her eyes were streaming with tears. The Light had not abandoned her: nay, it had greater things yet in store for her. For a young woman of nineteen, this was more than she ever could have hoped for, especially fearing that she had traded her future, both as a scholar and a priest, for love.

"Thank you," she whispered.

* * *

 **(AN: A lot of people hated _Cataclysm_ for some reason [almost as much as _Warlords of Draenor_ , another expansion i liked]. One thing i found interesting was the "generalization" of classes. Some abilities that were class specific were now class-wide [example: Elemental Shaman could now use Lightning Shield and Spiritwalker's Grace]. Priests had the Confess spell, a flavor spell that i really enjoyed [and for which i haven't found a toy or glyph for in _Legion_ ]. That was what Melissa cast to make the tax collector spill the beans. I do wish it was still here, because i'd have loved _Warlords of Draenor_ and _Legion_ -based confessions.)**


	6. The Expedition

**(AN: At this point, you will start to recognize a few events and names. We're nearing the age of _Warcraft III_ , my favorite pre- _WoW_ game and era.)**

 **(We also see in this chapter the return of a certain plot-line that i've been building on ever since i realized that, well, you'll see.)**

* * *

 **The Expedition**

The next few years saw disaster after disaster befall Melissa Redmane's family. Talus Redmane, Melissa's father-in-law, was brutally murdered by bandits on the road to Silverpine. Four years after the marriage, Maryem Field collapsed in her house and never rose again. The eldest but one of Tharbin's brothers, Taelin Redmane, died after a horse kicked him in the head while working on the farm. But there was another cause for sadness, one that was not immediate but a steadily growing concern. Year after year Melissa and Tharbin were unable to conceive a child. They had gone to every healer and alchemist they could (with one notable exception), but no root cause could be determined.

Which is not to say that the years were sad ones altogether. Tharbin's brothers got married one by one and moved out of their father's house; then the eldest daughter was married until only the youngest brother and the youngest sister remained unmarried. During a Hallow's End festival in Andorhal, Melissa had a chance meeting with a young man named Lucas Mardenholde, to whom she introduced, to her great delight and eternal gratitude, her friend Hannah Farmer. After a few months, they became so close that Hannah told Melissa that she had agreed to marry him and move to Andorhal.

"I thought you had forgotten all about me," Hannah had told Melissa. "How can I ever repay you?"

"Think nothing of it," Melissa dismissed. "I just wanted you to be happy. That's all."

"You're the best friend a woman could ever ask for!" Hannah replied. "But, seriously, I'm in your debt. If there's anything you may ever want or need, just ask me: I'll find some way to do it."

It was now the 610th year of the King. Many things were transpiring in the Kingdom of Lordaeron, things which even the tiny village learned some rumor thereof. Adelas Blackmore, lord of Durnholde Keep, had been savagely murdered by one of his prized gladiators. This was far too close to the little village in Hillsbrad for anyone's liking. Then came the rumors that the internment camps were being raided and the Orcs liberated. People feared the coming of a new Horde, one led by this escaped prisoner whom Blackmore had trained to think and act like a human. Another rumor stated that the King of Ironforge had sent his brother, the warrior-prince Muradin Bronzebeard, into the frozen land of Northrend on an expedition, which hadn't been heard from since.

Locally, things had changed as well. Melissa was now twenty-seven years old, happily married to Tharbin Redmane and living out her life as a farmer's wife. Within four months Hannah would be married here in the village - to Father Preston no less, who was still alive even after all these years. Melissa had been invited, of course, and was exceedingly happy for her friend. But, nevertheless, the pallor of sadness hung over her like a cloud: eight years without a child had dampened both the hopes of her husband and herself. None of the physicians or healers she had been to could reveal anything about why she simply couldn't bear children. Again she was starting to feel the sting of doubt with every visit of her monthly issue after another failed attempt.

So it was that she was more than a little shocked when the rumors started to pour in about the Horde reforming. Her sleep began to be disturbed by nightmares about those nights fourteen years ago, filled with the pounding of Orcish drums and the chanting of their deep, guttural voices. In her heart, she feared that, this time, they would not be spared. She had learned that most of the surviving Orcs were kept in the internment camps here in Lordaeron: surely they would strike back against their captors without mercy (though she doubted they had any to begin with, based on the stories she heard of the war).

In her growing fear and desperation, Melissa Redmane sought out the last place she ever would have gone for help in this matter. One night, long after she had finished cleaning the house, she stowed away to the hovel of Lillian Puck. Of all the people that had died in the last several years, she had not. At the door, she knocked softly; in her heart, she hoped that old lady Puck would be there and dreaded that she would be there as well.

"Go away," the same old, curmudgeonly voice called out from behind the door.

"Ms. Puck?" Melissa called out. "It's Melissa. I'm an old friend from long ago."

"I don't need any friends," Puck replied. "Nor have I any. Now get lost. What's an old b*tch gotta do to get some peace and quiet these days?"

"I'd be willing to pay you for your trouble," Melissa replied.

There was no immediate reply. Then came the sound of many locks being undone, then the sound of squeaking door-hinges turning: in the cracked open door was a lit candle, and in its light was revealed a woman so impossibly old that Melissa wondered if there was more to old lady Puck than she had initially believed.

"Oh, it's you," Puck grumbled. "Get your ass in here, then."

Melissa entered the old woman's hovel, and Lillian closed the door behind them. There were several candles burning in various niches about the house, and in their light Melissa saw that the hovel hadn't changed a bit since she stopped taking lessons with her. There was more dust and disorder, but it remained almost identical.

"So, why are you here?" Lillian asked. "Has your precious Light finally abandoned you that you come to me, sneaking in the shadows, begging for my help? Huh? I have half a mind to slap you across your pretty face and send you packin'!"

"I need your help," Melissa spoke. "As I recall, you were very skilled with herbs. Is there anything in here for...well, you know..."

Lillian Puck laughed a snaggle-toothed, coughing laugh. "You can tell me. We're all women here."

"Fertility," Melissa stated. "For myself. My husband and I have been trying for years have a child, but it's never worked. We've been to every healer and sage in this area, and a few outside, but they have no answers."

"Hmm," grumbled Lillian mockingly. "So you can't fulfill your duties to your husband, eh? And you naturally waited until I'm fixin' to die to come begging at my doorstep in the dead of night, is that so?"

"Please, just tell me if there is anything you can do," Melissa begged. "I've exhausted every other avenue of assistance."

"And I'm your only hope, is that it?" Lillian asked. "I'm of a mind to turn you down out of spite."

"Why?"

"Because I can!"

"What is your problem?" Melissa retorted, finally having had enough of old lady Puck's bitter demeanor. "Everyone in this village has been nothing but kind to you, and you treat us like rats!"

"You don't wanna know what my problems are, my pretty," Lillian shook her wiry, gray head. "You'd never sleep again if you knew what I know."

"And what's that?"

"Do you really wanna know?"

"Yes, I want to know!"

"This whole world will burn!" Lillian retorted, grinning with blackened, crooked teeth. "You and your priest might think I'm just being bitter and ruining everybody's fantasies about the Light, but it's the truth. The burning shadow is returning."

"That's what you said during the war," Melissa said. "But we won the war. We beat back the Horde and their demon magic."

"You only delayed the inevitable," Lillian stated, pointing one gnarled, long-nailed finger at Melissa. "The burning shadow is returning to finish what it started and set this world to the flame. But even that is only a small part of an even bigger game, one that no mortal mind but mine can comprehend!" With this, Lillian came uncomfortably close to Melissa: she could smell tobacco and beer on her breath, and her skin was covered in goose-flesh at the cold, iron-strong grip of Lillian's hands on her arm and shoulder.

"The Shadow," whispered Lillian, almost respectfully. "A shadow that does not burn, but devours all things. A bright explosion in the ancient world, but even as the Light collided with darkness and formed all things, it spread out, leaving in its wake the Nameless Void. It is old, it is hungry, and it is patient. Yes, my pretty, it is patient, very patient. It first sparked the burning shadow that has consumed countless worlds in its great, burning crusade. It whispers to us now, in the deep places of the world, places where your Light cannot reach. The Kirin Tor think this Shadow is equal to the Light: bah!" She spat on the ground.

"It is stronger," Lillian continued, whispering reverently. "Stronger than all powers ever conceived. In the dark places it waits, beyond the walls of night, filled with a ravenous hunger to devour all worlds. But it does not devour yet, no, my pretty. It waits, it waits, until the time when it can grow fat on all living things. Then shall be the hour of the Lords of the Nameless Void. The Light won't stop it, nothing will stop the inevitable devouring of all life in the Great Dark Beyond." At this, Lillian stepped away from Melissa's side and, after a little searching and mumbling to herself, picked up a bundle of some sweet smelling herbs and threw them at Melissa.

"Take them if you will," Lillian scoffed. "Grow fat with carrying your bastard husband's babies, watch him reject you when you're no longer a thin little string-bean. I'll be enjoying your money while this wretched corpse of mine still draws breath." She laughed. "It matters not; nothing matters! The Void will consume us all in the end! We will all die!"

Melissa dropped a small bag of silver coins on the floor, then left Lillian Puck's hovel amid her howling laughter. She cursed herself for ever dallying with such a one. Her words continued to daunt her, long after the event. They followed her everywhere she went, coming back at moments of great doubt and hopelessness. But what made her words even more fearful and troubling was the fact that, while the Light had remained silent since Melissa's wedding night, the skill of herbalist Lillian Puck was efficacious here and now.

The next month came, but Melissa's issue did not. A visit to a healer in Southshore discoverd that she had indeed conceived. Tharbin, Selvina and Colin were beside themselves with happiness, and Hannah became even more envious and eagerly counted down the days until her own wedding. Melissa was happy as well, but in the back of her mind, something was taunting her, reminding her that Lillian Puck had succeeded when all else, even the Light, had seemed to fail.

Though there was great joy at the prospect of the first Redmane child of a new generation, there were other concerns on all of their minds. Orcs began to appear in the hills around Hillsbrad and Alterac. There were reports of some attacks, but most of them were against the internment camps and no villages were sacked. In the northern boroughs, it was said that a plague was moving from town to town, village to village, bringing sickness and death in its wake. No one knew what caused the plague, but it was rumored that the Kirin Tor were especially concerned and intrigued about its origins. Melissa feared for the safety of Hannah, who would be moving north after her wedding.

At the end of four months, Hannah and Lucas were married. Melissa was so happy, seeing her best friend's wish finally fulfilled, after so many years of both of them wishing and waiting. Hannah was weeping with endless joy, and threw her arms around Melissa after the service.

"This is the happiest day of my life," she said. "Everything I've ever wanted has come true. I can't thank you enough for introducing me to Lucas. I owe you everything."

"Think nothing of it," Melissa dismissed. "I'm just so glad you're happy."

"No, seriously," Hannah returned. "How can I ever repay you for this? You didn't have to do this for me, and you did! There has to be something, anything..."

"I'll think about it," Melissa chuckled. "In the meanwhile, you just live a happy life. That will be more than enough for me."

And so it seemed to be for the time being. Lucas and Hannah Mardenholde moved to Andorhal and for a time, a steady stream of letters passed between their house in Andorhal and the village in Hillsbrad. Through these Melissa learned about more goings on in the north than she could have ever gotten from the rumors Tharbin picked up in the local taverns. This was much to Melissa's liking, who continued her writing in her spare time: which, with cleaning around the house, was rare and cherished.

But sadness was not far away either. Within three weeks of the Mardenholde wedding, old Father Preston died in his sleep. Melissa was beside herself with grief, as much as she had been with the death of her mother. As he had no living family, Melissa and Tharbin buried him in the chapel cemetery. Melissa performed the last rites, in accordance to his will, which had been written and was found on his desk when he died. The will also bequeathed his books to her, with a small note with a vague message included:

' _Put your faith in the Light and all is possible._ '

* * *

The summer passed slowly, with Melissa showing week after week. The letters from Andorhal continued, but became less and less regular. The content of the letters also became more serious. While the plague was still only a rumor in the south, in the north it was a reality. Hannah spoke of the terror and anxiety they experienced day by day, trying to keep the houses clean, avoiding anyone who might be sick for fear of catching the plague. Despite the fear, Hannah always seemed to be optimistic about the future and that things would get better.

Two weeks before the Midsummer Fire Festival, the letters from Andorhal ceased altogether. Melissa worried that her friend was in trouble and asked her husband if she could go north to visit her. However, Tharbin was worried that travel would be harmful to their child and assured her that the letters would return in time. More news began to pour in from the north, all of it bad. Stratholme, the great port-city of Northern Lordaeron, had been burned with fire in a great purge. Apparently Prince Arthas, King Terenas' son and heir, had ordered the purging of the city upon discovering that it had been infected by the plague. Tharbin and Melissa were pleased with this news: anything that would put an end to this accursed plague was enough in their minds, especially since Hannah Mardenholde was living in that region.

Less welcome was the news that Prince Arthas had disbanded the Knights of the Silver Hand. Everyone who remembered the Second War knew about the Paladins, militant members of the Church of the Holy Light dedicated to protecting Lordaeron from all threats. Every child in the Seven Kingdoms knew the names of Uther the Lightbringer, Turalyon, Dagren Orcslayer, Sage Truthbearer, and many others, including Prince Arthas Menethil himself. They were the heroes that had fought off the Horde and continued to champion the cause of the people. Now they were disbanded, just when it seemed that they were needed the most.

It was the last month of summer. No letters from the Mardenholdes arrived in the little village, but more than the Redmane's world was shattered in these days. Rumors now said that Prince Arthas had disappeared on an expedition to Northrend and hadn't been heard from since. In the little village, Melissa was now very large and slower on her feet than usual. Tharbin had twice as much work on his hands with the farm than usual, for now grain from the southern boroughs was in high demand. An agent of the Kirin Tor had discovered that the plague had come from poisoned grain in Andorhal. This made Melissa even more worried, as now she worried that the reason for the letters stopping had been that Hannah had been taken by the plague.

* * *

One day, near the end of the month, a letter finally arrived from Andorhal. Even as Melissa was waddling to the mail-box to pick it up, she noticed a group of armed knights riding into the village. At their head was a herald, with a page at his side bearing the banner of Lordaeron. Into the center of the village the knights rode, where the herald cried with a loud voice.

"Citizens of Hillsbrad," he shouted. "By order of Jaina Proudmoore, mage of the Kirin Tor and princess of Kul'Tiras, the Alliance fleet is preparing to set sail on an expedition to the west, to discover the continent known as Kalimdor. All people, be they rich, poor, young, old, man or woman, are invited to volunteer their services for the expedition. Those who are interested in joining the expedition will be paid for time and services rendered during the expedition, and guaranteed a place to live in the new colony that will be established on Kalimdor. The fleet sets sail in one week from the town of Southshore."

Melissa had heard the entire thing, and suddenly a thought came into her mind. The words the Light had spoken to her on her wedding night came back into mind. Perhaps this was the great task the voice had spoken of all those years ago. The long years of doubt seemed to fade away for one brief moment: if she could join the expedition, she would know for sure if this was what the Light wanted or not. She walked back inside as fast as she could carry herself and told Tharbin about what she had heard.

"I'm not sure if this is the best idea," Tharbin stated. "I mean, I was worried about you going to Andorhal, but this is different! I mean, this is the Great Sea we're talking about! I might not know as much as your books, but I've heard the rumors about ships being devoured by the twisting Maelstrom. No one returns from a voyage into the west."

"I know," Melissa replied. "I've heard about the Maelstrom and the legends of the Broken Isles. Years ago, I would have said the same thing you did. But, well, something's different."

"What's different, love?" Tharbin asked. Melissa told him about her encounter with the Light and how Father Preston had interpreted it. Every moment she was worried that he would call her insane.

"And you believe that the Light wants you to sail west?" Tharbin asked.

"I don't know," Melissa returned. "All I know is that something big is planned for me. Maybe it will be on this expedition, but I won't know for sure if I don't at least try."

Tharbin lowered his head for one long, uneasy moment of silence. Then he scratched his beard - it had finally grown into an impressive length - and turned his gaze out the window towards the fields.

"How soon can we leave?" he asked.

"We?" she asked.

"You did say anyone was invited to volunteer, right?" he asked. "Well, I'm part of the Hillsbrad militia, and they'll likely be needing soldiers. I'll talk to my family about it: maybe we can all go."

Melissa beamed widely, then planted a kiss on Tharbin's cheek before turning back to the door. She wanted to speak to her father about the expedition and ask if he wanted to come along. After she opened the door and made her slow, shuffling way to her old house, she opened the letter from Hannah and read therefrom.

' _Dear Melissa,_

 _I'm sorry that I've been unable to reach you sooner. Things have been getting steadily worse in Andorhal. It all started less than a month after we moved here. Every night there are strange noises: shuffling sounds, howling, chanting. One night I changed to look outside and thought I saw old lady Puck walking about in the streets in the dead of night, dressed in black. I don't think I ever saw her leave her hovel the whole time I was living with you._

 _I wish I could say things were better. Lucas fell sick yesterday. I can't understand how it happened: neither of us have been around anyone sick lately, we've been very careful about that. I hear that Prince Arthas will be visiting Andorhal shortly: perhaps things will be better once he arrives. I will write to you as soon as I can, but I can't promise anything._

 _Love, Hannah_ '

Melissa's heart skipped a beat. The north-lands were almost overwhelmed by the plague, according to the rumors. Had Hannah managed to get out of Andorhal before all hell broke loose? She decided that she would send a letter to Hannah, telling her of the expedition. Firstly, however, she stowed the letter in her bosom - though she was not very endowed, her swollen belly helped keep things from falling out the bottom of her dress - then continued her walk to her old house.

She knocked on the door of her house and, after a considerable amount of time, Colin Field answered the door. They threw their arms around each other and he welcomed her into his house. To her surprise and sadness, Melissa noticed that her father was moving even slower than she was. Old age hadn't been kind to him, especially because of his wounds. He pulled up a chair for her at the table, then sat down next to her. As she was sitting down, she winced slightly.

"Is everything alright?" Colin asked.

"Oh, it's fine," Melissa replied. "I'm still getting used to being kicked in the back day and night." She then took her father's old, wrinkled hand and placed it upon her belly. "See how strong he moves!"

"Oh, you know it's a he?" Colin asked.

"I just have a feeling," Melissa replied. "He certainly moves about quite a bit." Another squirm coalesced and Colin chuckled happily.

"I wish your mother were still here," he sighed ruefully. "She'd have loved to see her grandchild born."

"I know, dad," Melissa added. "I know." She then told him about the expedition and her desire to go with it. To her surprise, Colin's countenance fell into sorrow.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I wish you wouldn't," he replied. "I've spoken to many sailors in my younger days. There are no lands to the west. Surely if there were, there'd have been some word of them before now."

"I know it's dangerous..."

"And yet you're going?" he asked. "At least wait until your child is born! By the Light, can't you see what folly this is? I hope they'd have enough wisdom to refuse you from joining."

"The Light spoke to me, dad!" Melissa stated.

"Oh, spare us!" Colin sighed. "Is this it, indeed? You're going to go out into certain death over a mad day-dream you had over seventeen years ago? Are you mad, or-or is this some sort of revenge on me for arranging your marriage to that farmer?"

"No, father!" Melissa firmly stated, tears welling in her eyes; either from her condition or the shift in tone of the conversation. "I...I wish you could understand."

"I understand, Melissa," Colin replied. "I understand what the priest told us in the chapel every Loresday. The Light manifests itself in us through our deeds, not as some disembodied voice. You spent enough time with Father Preston, can't you see that?"

Melissa sighed. "I only know what happened to me. I know that that was real, and I believe something great awaits for me beyond the Great Sea, something bigger than death." She wiped her eyes, then placed one hand on the table, ready to steady herself onto her feet as she was about to leave, then suddenly a new thought came into mind.

"Come with us, dad," she offered.

"You can't be serious," scoffed Colin.

"I am serious," Melissa nodded. "Tharbin is going with me. Why don't you come with us? You'll be paid for your time in the expedition, and there'll be a new place for us if we get to where our expedition is going."

Colin sighed, less upset than before. "Melissa, you don't need to try and bribe me. I'm not going."

"Why not?"

"I'm an old man, child," Colin replied. "I wouldn't be of much use to anyone. Besides, this is my home. Where I've lived all the days of my life, where my wife and all of my friends are buried. This is where I have lived, and this is where I will die someday soon. That is my lot and it is enough."

Melissa nodded, then helped herself rise to her feet. She then walked over to her father and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"I'll come back here once the expedition is done," Melissa promised. "Perhaps then you'll get to meet your grandson."

"Oh, what I wouldn't give to see that day!" Colin smiled. Melissa planted a kiss on his balding head, then turned to leave. But even as he was leaving, he spoke to her.

"Goodbye, my daughter," he spoke. "Oh, I know you speak from the heart, but I wouldn't make promises that will not be kept. I'm afraid..." His voice broke. "I'm afraid we will never see each other again."

Melissa left the house, tears streaming from her eyes. It frustrated her how much she seemed to break down in tears over every little thing during her carriage. More so was she saddened by her father's refusal to join, as well as his sudden rage and sullen response after she made her decision. Again the words of doubt came to mind, and she wondered if this was what she was supposed to be doing. Was there not something about respect in the Three Virtues that she must be violating?

"Light be with you, father," she wept, placing one last hand upon the door of her childhood in farewell.

* * *

 **(AN: This closing seems more tragic for us than for them, since we know what's happening. However, as _WoW_ has revealed, the southern lands weren't stricken as fiercely by the Scourge as the North-lands. So i had to have another motivation for these people, who wouldn't feel the threat of the Scourge as readily as the refugees from the North.)**


	7. Voyage at Sea

**(AN: In _The Frozen Throne_ , i got the impression from the stated lore that the Blood Elves were being a-holes to everyone because of their magic addiction _._ Then when i actually played the game, that was downplayed in exchange for making them the poor, innocent victims of Lord Garithos Strawman [seriously, he's not even a character but a caricature. The Scarlet Crusade got a bigger misunderstood sob-story than him, and they're just as bad, if not worse! And Kael'Thas must have been an idiot or a racist himself to dismiss the entire Alliance over one man: i'm leaning towards racist, since Lor'themar was ready to dismiss the entire Horde over Garrosh. Noticing a trend here].)**

* * *

 **Voyage at Sea**

Seven days would be more than enough time to prepare for the journey to Southshore. The farm would be in the capable hands of Tharbin's two brothers and sisters, as well as his mother Selvina. They had declined his invitation to join them, stating that their place was here in the village: and, of course, that someone had to tend the farm while he was away.

The rest of that day was spent making a list of things they would need to pack for the voyage. Though Tharbin could now read and write, thanks to the lessons of his darling wife, she was the swifter and neater writer by far and did most of the writing while he, pragmatic man that he was, went over what they could need on a long voyage. Once the night fell, Tharbin went off to bed, while Melissa remained awake, claiming that she was restless and hungry and couldn't get to sleep.

In truth, she was idling in the back of her mind the letter from Hannah Mardenholde. It seemed silly to think that old lady Lillian Puck would be out and about, especially as far away as Andorhal. She rarely was seen outside of her hovel, to say nothing of traveling anywhere. With curiosity getting the best of her, Hannah wrapped herself in a warm cloak and shuffled out the door: if Tharbin asked, she would tell him about the herbs and say that she was going over to thank old lady Puck for them.

Not entirely a lie, for she would indeed bring that up if, as she believed, Lillian was at home.

It was a cool late summer's night as she made her way to the old lady's hovel. Lillian's hovel was on the north-side of town, on the far side, and it was a long walk there. On and on she went, relishing for a moment the silence of the night: no pounding of the distant drums of not-so-distant Orcs, nor the clash of battle. It reminded her of what she loved about Hillsbrad, and made her wonder if leaving was the right choice. After all, she loved it here, and there was no clear reason to be gone.

At last she came to the old lady's hut and knocked on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again, louder in case the old lady was asleep. Silence.

"Ms. Puck?" she asked. "It's Melissa Redmane. Look, I've come to thank you for the herbs you gave me. You wouldn't believe how well they worked."

Still there was nothing but silence. Not even a curse, a shuffle, or the sound of locks being undone. Melissa pounded on the door again, and to her surprise, it gave back a little. It was not locked. Gently she pushed the door open, letting the light of the moons flood into the house from the open door.

There was no one inside the hut. Everything was left exactly as she remembered it from her last visit, but no person was living there.

* * *

Three days later, a small cart loaded with all of the things belonging to Melissa and Tharbin Redmane left their farm, rumbling down the road to Southshore. Among their things were a few clothes they owned, several of Melissa's books (very few, for weight), blankets, several weeks worth of food, and Tharbin's most cherished possession: a sword which he used for his time in the militia. The road to Southshore was not a long one, and they arrived in the town around mid-afternoon.

Southshore was practically busting at the seams from all the people here for the Alliance Expedition. There were many refugees from the North-lands, soldiers of Lordaeron and even beyond: mercenaries from the reclusive Kingdom of Gilneas, hardy Kul'Tiras marines, High Elves from Quel'Thalas, Bronzebeards from Ironforge, Wildhammers from the Hinterlands, even a few Gnomes from Gnomeregan. All of them were here for the expedition, and, according to the rumors, more were coming.

For the next four days, the Redmanes waited in Southshore with the Expeditionary Forces, waiting for their departure. The Southshore inn saw some of the best, albeit rowdiest, service they had ever received in many long years. During that time, many rumors were shared at the inn and among the make-shift tents and lean-twos made by the Expedition volunteers: few of which escaped the ears of Tharbin and Melissa Redmane, as she was always interested in news from the outside world and asked him to pay close attention to any thing he might hear. Several conflicting stories were being traded, none of them very pleasing. Some people said that Prince Arthas had died on his journey to Northrend, others said that he had turned traitor and killed his father King Terenas: the latter of which Melissa did not wish to believe was true. Other people said that the plague was in full force, and that Quel'Thalas was in flames: but there was one rumor, closer to home, that was more disconcerting than all the others.

The rumor that the Expedition would not be returning to Lordaeron.

At the end of the week, the Expedition boarded the ships and set sail due west. As the ship were leaving, Melissa and Tharbin looked back at the town of Southshore in the Hillsbrad Foothills. The old life was behind them, receding farther and farther with each mile these ships carried them out to sea. Soon it would be lost to all sight.

The voyage was long and tiresome for all, but for Melissa especially. She had swam plenty in her life, but she had never been on a boat. The instability of the vessel on the water, the endless rocking back and forth, brought back a similar sickness to that which she had experienced in the beginning of her pregnancy. Tharbin too came down with the same sickness and was often vomiting over the side of the ship whenever he could reach it: she had to discharge the contents of her stomach in an empty gun-powder barrel. Furthermore, as water was precious and dehydration was a risk out on the salty waters of the Great Sea, wine and rum were rationed out for drinking purposes: an arrangement which was greatly welcomed by the Dwarven members of the Expedition crew. Melissa drank only a few sips of the wine, but did not have any rum. Days seemed to melt, one into the other. The only light in the ship hold, where Melissa was often confined due to her lack of mobility, was a lantern that swung with the rocking of the ship. The seas were rarely calm, and the food seemed to go bad quickly in the damp holds.

During a storm, one day or night, they both seemed alike on the stormy seas, both Melissa and Tharbin were below deck, trying to stay dry as splashes of sea-spray came through in every possible nook and cranny. Tharbin was restless and holding onto a wooden bulkhead to stabilize himself against the rocking. Melissa was lying on a pile of burlap sacks full of flour, trying to read in the light of the swaying lantern.

"When will this storm end?" she asked, frustrated at the swaying light.

"The sailors don't quite know," Tharbin replied. "Some say we're nearing the Maelstrom, and that we won't survive the night." He braced himself as another wave sent the ship reeling back again. "Do you think there's hope we'll survive?"

"Light willing," Melissa answered.

"Are there any islands out here?" he asked. "There have been quite a few sightings before the storm struck. Some of the sailors thought they were Kalimdor, except we hadn't reached the Maelstrom yet."

"There are many sailor's legends," Melissa began. "Some have spoken of a large island surrounded by mists that would appear at one point, then disappear if they ever sailed back to find it agai..." She paused, wincing as her belly constricted with pain.

"Honey?" he asked. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," Melissa admitted. "It just..."

"I'll fetch a priest," Tharbin said. "Just...just hang in there!" He took off as fast as his legs could carry him on the swaying deck. Moments later he appeared with a blond-haired High Elf in tow. Despite being shorter than Tharbin, the elf walked with the air of a king, and bore a bitter expression on his face.

"So," the Elf sneared. "Is this your cow of a wife?"

"What did you call her?" Tharbin asked.

"You heard me, filthy human scum!" the Elf retorted. "Or did you not see that she's swollen like a bovine?"

"She's pregnant!" Tharbin returned. "Can't your green eyes see that?"

"What do you expect _me_ to do," the Elf asked. "Pull the child out of her by magic?"

"My wife's in pain," Tharbin said. "I thought you might do something to relieve her pain."

"No, it's fine..." Melissa interjected.

"You filthy mortals are all the same," the Elf sneered. "Always begging for help from us mages. Well, solve your own damn problems! I'm not your slave!"

"I didn't call you a slave, dammit!" Tharbin retorted. "I just asked..."

"Oh, you just asked!" the Elf retorted. "So very condescending! Maybe I should kiss your ass also because you deigned to 'just ask.'" He spat in Tharbin's face. "You and your pig of a wife can die for all I care, for bothering a skilled priest, disciplined in holy and arcane magic, with your petty nothings!" With that, the Elf picked up the skirts of his robe and walked out of the hold.

"He can't talk to you like that, honey," Tharbin said.

"It's okay," Melissa dismissed. "The pain is gone."

"I won't let him treat you like this," Tharbin retorted. "I'm going to talk to the leader of the Expedition, this Kul'Tiras woman Lady Proudmoore, and see if she can put a stop to this."

* * *

Melissa tried to dismiss it, but Tharbin was adamant. He disappeared on his way to find the leader, while the storm raged on outside. She had been feeling sad from the comments the Elf priest made, but those faded with Tharbin's sudden response. She continued reading, despite the periodic pain that returned. After a time, however, Tharbin appeared with someone in tow.

It was the first time Melissa had seen Jaina Proudmoore. She was a young girl, somewhere between four and five years younger than Melissa, with blond hair and a slender frame. She was clad in white, but wore a purple hooded cloak that glistened with runes woven into the thread.

"You must be Melissa Redmane," the young woman said. "I'm Jaina Proudmoore, the leader of the Expedition. Your husband Tharbin told me there was an...incident with one of the Quel'Dorei priests."

"It was nothing," Melissa dismissed. "I'm sorry my husband bothered you with this. You must be busy, with the storm and everything."

"On the contrary," Jaina returned. "His arrival was quite timely. There have been other reports about incidents with the other Elves. From what they've told me, they've been having difficulty concentrating their magic after the invasion of Quel'Thalas."

"Invasion?" Tharbin asked.

"Yes," Jaina sighed. "The High Elves' city of Silvermoon was sacked, and their magical font, the Sunwell, was destroyed. Since then, they have been unable to concentrate on their magic. I don't know much else about this; all I can ask is that you please be patient with them. Everyone must be on edge from being trapped at sea for many days. But according to our charts, if the legends are true, we should make landfall on Kalimdor within a day or two. Everything will be made clear once we arrive there."

"Thank you," Melissa replied, nodding respectfully. Jaina then walked back out the way she had come, leaving an exacerbated-looking Tharbin standing there with a look of disappointment on his face.

"I can't believe she just ignored that," he muttered.

"Please, honey, let it go," Melissa insisted. "It was just words."

"I thought priests were supposed to respect all life," Tharbin grumbled. "Makes you wonder what good they are if they won't even be bothered to help."

"Don't say that," Melissa dismissed.

"Why not?" Tharbin returned, sitting down next to his wife. "It's true."

"And you're better than him," Melissa stated. "There's no reason to stoop to his level, whether what you say is true or not. Now can we put this aside for now?" Tharbin nodded.

"Good," she returned. "Now let's get some rest. I'm sure you must be tired."

* * *

 **(AN: Admittedly shorter than the past two chapters, but this one came about in my mind many years ago. It was one of the first "adventures" that were part of the story in its nascent form. Obviously it evolved over the years, but this was part of the original draft.)**


	8. A Strange New Land

**(AN: Another reason i hated _Mists of Pandaria_ was its ending. We have Thrall playing musical chairs with the position of Warchief [it should have gone back to him], and Varian acting completely out of character. Since the Ulduar trailer, i've seen him as the human version of Garrosh, and since in _Mists_ Jaina Proudmoore was _ALSO_ turned into Garrosh 2.0, and Garrosh attempted to kill Anduin Wrynn and wipe out the world with Y'Shaarj's heart, it seemed that, with Jaina advising Varian to kill the Horde leaders, that we had fallen into a trap. Then, despite having every reason to hate the Horde and absolutely zero motivation to show them any mercy, as it was not in his character to be forgiving towards the Horde, Varian just up and lets them go.)**

 **(Well, in this chapter, we will see the Warsong clan doing what Garrosh loved doing: antagonizing the humans. We will also see Jaina before she was ruined by _Mists of Pandaria_ [on a side-note, why is it that everyone who is a good character is written off as 'boring' these days? Does nobody like a hero unless they're a degenerate with a back-story of murder, rape, assault, a drug and gambling addiction, as well as being an a-hole to everyone?])**

* * *

 **A Strange New Land**

Whether two or three days passed, few on the ships knew for certain. At length, however, the sun did appear and cries of "Land ho!" echoed from the crows nests of every ship. Eager to see this strange new land, Tharbin helped Melissa onto her feet and joined the throng of others rushing to the ship's deck to catch a glimpse. Neither of the Redmanes had seen sand before in their lives. There were no beaches in Hillsbrad, and even the coast of Southshore was made of smoothed pebbles. Before them in the distance appeared a line of purple hills on the edge of the western horizon, with a line of white sand dividing where the hills met the sea.

In the hours that followed, the ships slowly made their way to the coast of this land, which many were now claiming was the ancient and forgotten land of Kalimdor. Lady Proudmoore sent a scouting party out first to survey the land, after which she would start sending over boats laden with supplies to build a temporary settlement on the coast. Only afterwards would the majority of the Expeditionary Force begin to disembark from the ships. Granted, it would take a long time before the Redmanes felt land beneath their feet.

When at last they came above deck, the first thing they felt was the heat. Out here on the ships, there was nothing to protect them from the sun's glare, and though the air was clearer than the musty, moldy hold of the ship, the sweltering heat was unbearable. No Midsummer's Day in Hillsbrad could have ever been as hot as it was this day on the shores of Kalimdor. They climbed aboard the little dinghy that had their supplies with them, what was left of the supplies after the journey by sea, and were rowed ashore. The ground beneath their feet was sand, coarse and invasive beyond anything they could have imagined. Further inland, toward where the wooden palisade wall was being built out of the few palm trees they could find nearby, the ground turned to clay mixed with brown, savanna-like grass.

Over the next few weeks, the Expedition slowly began to make their way inland. It was slow indeed, for here the heat was thick upon wind all day. A dry heat, and not the humidity of Stranglethorn Vale, but there was also no water in the desert and dry heat was worse for the marching soldiers. Heat-stroke was a regular occurrence, and priests and healers were in especially high demand. The High Elves grew more and more irritable with each passing day: fights between them and the other races occurred with disturbing regularity, and as a result, they plainly refused to help the Expedition. Nevertheless, Lady Proudmoore insisted that they be treated with respect and tolerance, no matter who instigated what.

The threats were not entirely internal, however. The beating sun was plenty, but there were other foes out in the brush and sand that made regular attacks on the Expedition. There were pig-men that lived in the brush and attacked with crude weapons or poisoned quills. On the plains, barbaric creatures half man and half horse were the hardiest foes they had yet encountered. While the quill-boars usually kept to their own hovels, the horse-men actively attacked the Expedition camps. The farther inland they went, the more of them they found and the fiercer their attacks became. But soon, a new foe appeared from the south, a foe the Expedition had not expected to see in Kalimdor.

The Horde.

Concentrated attacks against the camps started occurring one by one, starting with those closest to the coast. Day and night the attacks were carried out with increasing ferocity and lethality. Each time the Expedition would gather up any survivors and remaining soldiers and follow the trail of the Orcs back to their camps. Once they arrived, however, they would find resistance to be too great to mount a successful assault and, eventually, fall back to their own camps.

* * *

It was at this point that Tharbin was drafted into the Expedition's army, given a suit of armor to complement his sword, and assigned to the defense of the forward outpost. This belonged to Lady Proudmoore, and was the farthest inland. Unfortunately, this meant less time with his wife Melissa. When she learned about this, she demanded to speak to Lady Proudmoore and be placed among the forward outpost as well. The officer to whom Melissa made her demand seemed to be rather shocked at her condition, and reported to Lady Proudmoore immediately. A few hours later, Melissa Redmane was escorted to a tent in her camp where Lady Proudmoore was pouring over a map on a table that had been recently developed, showing the eastern coast of Kalimdor, where each of her camps were located, and the current location of the Horde camp.

"Melissa Redmane, milady," the captain reported.

"Thanks, captain," Jaina said. "That will be all." The captain saluted, then left the tent.

"Mrs. Redmane," Jaina said to her guest. "Please, have a seat. You must be tired." She then held out her hand, spoke a spell in Old Azerothi, and to Melissa's surprise, witnessed a violet flask appear in a flash of blue light into Lady Proudmoore's hand.

"Have a drink," Jaina offered. "I'm sure you must be thirsty. Everyone in the camp is these days."

Melissa slowly took a seat at the table and accepted the drink. It was cool, refreshing, and had a slight sweetness in the after-taste.

"My captain tells me," Jaina continued. "That you've requested to join the forward camp in our march to the Stonetalon Mountain. He was also concerned about your...condition. How far along are you?"

"Almost eight months, milady," Melissa replied.

"Hmm, I see," Jaina nodded. "The captain said that your reason for requesting the transfer was to be close to your husband, Tharbin Redmane. He's part of the Hillsbrad militia, if I'm not mistaken, and he's been pressed into guarding the camp."

"That's correct," Melissa answered.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Redmane," Jaina shook her head. "I can't let you join."

"Why not?" Melissa asked.

"It's too dangerous..." Jaina began, but Melissa cut her off.

"Don't you think I counted the cost when I left home?" Melissa asked. "My husband and I are aware of any danger, and we're prepared to face it...together! Or do you _really_ want to stand between a pregnant woman and her husband? Will that magic do anything to save you, I wonder?"

Jaina chuckled softly. "I've heard strange things happen to women who are bearing." She then composed herself. "Still, my response has gone unchanged." Melissa placed her hands on the table as if she would pull herself to her feet, but Jaina held out a placating hand.

"Please, try to understand," she continued. "We had not expected the Orcs to be here as well. Their attacks have been increasing with each passing day. I wouldn't want to put you or your child in harm's way...not just for your husband's sake, but for all of us."

"All of us?" Melissa asked. "But I'm just a farmer's wife from Hillsbrad. What does my baby have to do with the Expedition?"

Jaina sighed heavily, then took a seat across from Melissa Redmane.

"I'm sure you and your husband," she began. "Were wondering why you were allowed to join the Expedition. I remember back home, my father told me about his battling with pirates on the South Seas. Usually, women weren't allowed to join their crew, much less pregnant women. But we're not going after pirates here in Kalimdor, we're fleeing for our lives."

"What are you talking about?" Melissa gasped.

"There have been rumors in the camps," Jaina said. "Rumors that we may not be returning to Lordaeron once we've reached our destination: I'm afraid they're true. Lordaeron has fallen. There's not much to go back to now."

"What?" exclaimed Melissa, fear gripping her heart even as she heard those words.

"I'm afraid it's true," Jaina replied. "Prince Arthas, he..." She trailed off, a pained expression on her face in that brief moment of silence. Melissa noticed that she was swallowing back tears, the same way that her mother would do if she spoke of something heartbreaking.

"Something happened to him in Northrend," she continued. "I don't know what it was, but when he returned, he wasn't the same person. He killed his father, Lord Uther, Anasterian the King of Silvermoon. All of Northern Lordaeron lies in ashes, destroyed by Arthas and the Undead Scourge. The day we left Southshore, I saw him marching towards Dalaran with an army of undead behind him. The Violet Citadel may hold, but...even Quel'Thalas could not stand before the army of the dead. I fear for Antonidas and the future of the Kirin Tor."

Melissa was stunned silent by the news. Dalaran was only a few short miles northwest of her village. Hope died within her as she realized that her village would soon be overrun by an army not of living Orcs, but of the dead. Could mortals stand against such an army, when even the immortal High Elven Kingdom had fallen? She hid her face in her right hand as hot tears began welling up in her eyes.

"I was warned by a very powerful wizard," Jaina continued. "To lead our people here to Kalimdor, where we'd have a chance to stand against the coming doom." She then noticed that Melissa was weeping softly. "I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Redmane. I can only assume how many loved ones you've left behind in coming on this Expedition. Believe me, if I could have saved them all, I would have: but there were many men of renown, wisdom and martial prowess, who laughed at this wizard's words, refusing to heed them. Even without knowledge that this Expedition wouldn't be returning, it was extremely difficult finding volunteers to join us." She rose from her seat and placed a hand on Melissa's shoulder.

"That's why you were allowed to join our Expedition, despite your pregnancy," she said. "When this shadow is defeated, the survivors of Lordaeron will have to rebuild here on Kalimdor."

"You think it can be defeated?" Melissa asked, despair closing in from the thought that her parents, friends and in-laws were most likely dead or dying: if that alone was all the fate that awaited the victims of the army of the dead.

"Never give up hope, Mrs. Redmane," Jaina said. "We _will_ live to see a world free from the shadow of fear: all three of us in this tent. That is why I don't want you in the thick of the fighting. If there had been no Orcs here on Kalimdor, I might have given you permission. But how they got here before us, or why they're even here, is beyond me!"

"I don't care about the Orcs," Melissa found herself suddenly saying: a warm feeling was burning within her chest, one that was driving away the despair. "I want to be near my husband, especially now that my time will soon be at hand. There must be something I can do in the forward camp, some use I can be to justify my going with you."

"Well, what do you do?" Jaina asked. "A moment ago, you said you were only a farmer's wife."

"I can read and write," Melissa added. "And I know something about herbs, yes? I know which ones can heal certain ailments, both common and magical."

"A healer?" Jaina asked, her interest piqued. "That is something that we need desperately. Our Elven priests have become more and more irritable of late. I've tried to give them space to cool off, but they've been getting worse and refusing to do their duties for the Expedition; and with the Orcs attacking our camps, their services are desperately needed."

"Let me do that, then," Melissa offered. "Take me as a healer to the forward camp."

Jaina removed her hand from Melissa's shoulder. "I'll see what can be done. I can't make any promises, though: except that you'll be closer to harm's way in the front than in the rear. I would order you to stay if I could, but you're not a soldier and I'm not a military commander. Is this _truly_ what you want?"

"Yes, milady," Melissa nodded. "This is what I want."

"Then you will hear from me soon," Jaina replied.

* * *

It was indeed very soon when Melissa received her summons: she would be joining the forward camp's medical unit as a healer. This was much to her liking, since she would now be closer to her husband. As she had never carried children before, it felt good to have family near during this fearful time, especially now with the news of Lordaeron's fall. Slowly but with lifted spirits, Melissa Redmane packed up her belongings and, with a little help, climbed into the supply wagon that was going to the forward camp.

The road was long and difficult. Heat bored down upon Melissa from the sun, forcing her to cover herself with a hood and cloak despite the dryness of the weather. She drank sparingly from the jug of water that she had brought with her: the Expedition still had little success in searching for water. As the wagon jostled along the line of wagon-wheels bored into the clay, Melissa saw, here and there, the signs of battle. There were Orc bones, picked dry of flesh by the vultures and left bleaching in the sun: she knew that they belonged to Orcs because of their massive size, and the fact that some of the skulls bore large tusks protruding from the bottom jaw. There were other bones with tusks in the mouths, but these were smaller in size than the others.

"Light," she prayed. "Please, let Tharbin be well when I see him again."

For many miles, there was nothing to see but desolate wastes. Here and there were large buttes and mesas of red and orange stone jutting up starkly out of the flat plain of desert. To the south there was a line of blue hills that rose up to the heights of mountains. To the north, the land grew ever more lush and fertile, as trees began to dot the landscape: proper trees, like the ones back home, not the stunted scrub where the quill-boar loved to hide. These trees grew in thickness until they passed on into a mighty forest; this then climbed up and up a massive mountain range that seemed to dominate the northern sky. These mountains were much higher than any Melissa had ever seen in Hillsbrad or Alterac: some of them reached up into the regions of snow, but all of them were blanketed in trees. Within that forest she could see small lines of smoke climbing up into the air. But her gaze was drawn further higher, to one peak whose summit was buried in the clouds. In the long hours of the wagon-ride to the forward camp, she would often gaze up at that mighty mountain. In the Seven Kingdoms of Azeroth, Blackrock Mountain in the Burning Steppes that divided Stormwind and Khaz Modan was the highest point: yet this mountain, she doubted not, was higher still. Ever and anon, as the clouds high in the north moved about, she thought she caught a glimpse of a great tree, larger than the other trees around it.

As the day wore on, she noticed that the cart began to slowly make its way towards the foot of a mountain on the edge of the desert, where the trees began to grow thicker. It seemed to be a far-flung arm of that great, shadowy mountain range to the north, covered in trees, that had been flung out into the desert. As they approached the rocky flanks of that mountain, Melissa noticed fires burning up along a winding path up that mountain. At the base of the mountain was the forward camp, from which blew the pale-blue banner of Lordaeron. Once the cart pulled up to the medic's tent, Melissa slowly climbed off the back, still sore from the day of bumpy riding, and took her bag to move it to where she would be sleeping. Then she heard a familiar voice.

"Melissa?" Tharbin asked. Toward her there approached a man in steel armor, bearing a shield upon his back and a sword hanging from the leather sheath at his belt. He removed his helmet and Melissa saw the face of her husband, covered in sweat from the heat of the day and his armor.

"Tharbin!" she exclaimed. "Thank the Light you're well!"

"Why are you here?" he asked. "I didn't know the rear camp had moved up this far."

"They haven't moved," Melissa shook her head. "I volunteered to come to the forward camp."

"What?" he asked. "But it's dangerous out here. The Horde have been attacking us relentlessly, they-they're bound to attack any minute now! No, you have to go back."

"Why?" Melissa retorted. "I came all the way out here to see you, to be with you."

"'Why?'" he returned. "Did you not think about our baby? What if something were to happen to you while you were up here? You're very near your time, am I right?"

"I..." stammered Melissa. "I've heard some bad news about home. I wanted to be with you, as that would make me feel better." She then cleared her throat. "From what I've heard, some women have lost their children from sadness..."

Tharbin sighed, placing down his helmet. "You don't have to do that, honey. I'm...I'm sorry I overreacted. I guess seeing you just made me realize how dangerous it's been up here. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"As long as I'm with you," Melissa replied. "I know nothing bad will happen."

* * *

In the next few days that followed, Melissa learned from Tharbin that the Horde had been making their way to the foot of this very mountain, Stonetalon Mountain. They had encountered a local tribe of bull-men who had joined them and were giving them aid. The Horde on any day was bad enough, but in this strange land, with the aid of locals to whom this terrain was familiar, Tharbin said that the other men feared ambush at any moment. For the present, however, there had been no attacks: nevertheless, the Expedition had barricaded the pass leading up the mountain, where Lady Proudmoore was planning on exploring personally in time. Melissa thought back to that time earlier this year, when the internment camps were being attacked but few villages were ever torched. Who was it who was in charge of the Horde who only struck at their military targets? From what she heard, the Orcs had savagely wiped out the Kingdom of Stormwind and quite a bit of Lordaeron: why were they now hesitating?

The time that Melissa spent with Tharbin, however, was very limited. Most of her time was spent tending those who were wounded or suffering from heat-stroke. Though she was kept busy, she was able to move at her own pace and so was not easily winded: a thing that happened quite often at this point in her pregnancy. Another blessing was the fact that the Expedition had finally found water! Wells that had apparently been dug by the bull-men near the base of the mountain were now being used by the Expedition, and there was plenty of water to use for the sick and to stave off dehydration. Melissa herself was surprised at how much knowledge of herbs she had retained from the few years she had spent under old lady Puck. Unfortunately, the thoughts of doubt were now returning. Lillian Puck had given her the herbs that had helped her conceive, as well as the knowledge of healing herbs: just what else of what she said was worth paying attention?

Early one morning, there were cries of alarm throughout the camp. Loud explosions broke the early morning air, and an acrid scent filled the camp: it was the first time Melissa and Tharbin had heard the sound of gunfire or smelt the distinct aroma of gunpowder. Tharbin quickly girded himself in his armor - despite Melissa's insistence that she could help - and rushed out to join his company. Curious as to the reason for the gunfire, Melissa poked her head out of the medic's tent.

"By Muradin's beard!" a Dwarf shouted. "They're all around us up there!"

"They look like dragons!" a little Gnome squealed, before running off with a terrified cry.

The forward camp was a hive of activity. Soldiers were running here and there, Dwarves had large blunderbuss rifles aimed up at the sky, where they were shooting at flying things: things that were flying up the mountain pass, avoiding the barricades altogether. The things, however, were not dragons. Melissa had never seen a dragon, not even the red dragons that had been enslaved by the Horde during the Second War. Her knowledge of dragons came from the books she had read: in those books, dragons were covered in scales, and these beast were clearly not scaled. In fact, as one swooped in close to the camp, she almost thought that it had the head of a lion; something else that dragons did not have, according to her books.

By the time that morning had come, the 'attack', if it could be called one, had ended. In fact, despite the fearful visage of these winged lions, they did very little actual damage to the forward camp. Despite this, Lady Proudmoore ordered the aerial support units into the sky while she and a group of elite guards hurried up the mountain pass. Throughout the day, the skies over the camp and the pass were filled with gryphons - large flying beasts with the feet of lions and the bodies, wings and heads of eagles - and flying machines, marvelous Gnomish inventions that could fly over the ground of their own power. Melissa felt safe with such powerful allies protecting the skies over the camp. However, she wondered why the Orcs hadn't attacked the camp: they had had no problem raiding the other camps. All that day the gryphons and flying machines flew and hovered above the camp, keeping watch for enemy attacks: yet no further attacks by the Horde were attempted on the Expedition camp.

As the day came to a close, Lady Proudmoore came down from the mountain and arrived at the forward camp with a group of Orcs, Trolls and the bull-men. When Melissa and Tharbin saw them, they were worried. For her part, Melissa hoped that they had been captured and would be made to pay for attacking the Expedition camp. It was to her great bemusement and surprise that she heard Jaina's announcement.

"Expedition forces," she said. "Listen well! A truce has been called between the Alliance Expedition and the Horde. There will be no fighting them, nor antagonizing them to start fights. Any incidents will be dealt with accordingly."

An alliance with the Horde? It was unthinkable! They had laid waste to Stormwind, invaded Lordaeron, slaughtered untold hundreds of thousands; it was even rumored that they worshiped demons. How could the Expedition choose to ally themselves with the Horde?

* * *

"This is what I don't understand about you people," Xing interrupted. "Everything with you is about race. Every time someone invades your lands, you turn it into a filthy race war."

"No, it's...this is different!" Melissa replied. "We weren't fighting them because we thought they were inferior. We were fighting to defend ourselves, our homes."

"That's what we Pandaren do," Xing stated. "Only when you outsiders do it, it's not really about protecting home and family, it's about your hatred of each other."

"How can you say that?" Melissa exclaimed. "We put aside our differences to fight the Burning Legion..."

Xing laughed. "Please, don't make me laugh. The Legion are just a myth. No one in Pandaria has ever seen any demons; they simply don't exist."

"They are real," Melissa returned. "I've seen them with my own eyes."

"Nonsense," dismissed Xing. "You outsiders will make up any old story to justify your race wars, especially one about a remorseless enemy you can feel good about slaughtering. Besides, even if what you're saying is true, there would have been no need for a race war with the Legion. Just sit down with their leaders and offer them some food. That would have solved everything."

"Feel good about killing?" Melissa retorted, loud enough to turn a few heads in the Summer's Rest inn. "Are you serious? The Burning Legion finished what the Scourge started in Lordaeron, and they were going to do that to all of Azeroth! If Archimonde had taken the World Tree, all life would have been destroyed, even your Pandaria!"

"But why?" Xing asked. "I'm betting if you'd have given this Arky-mund a nice hot bowl of noodle soup, he would have realized that fighting wasn't worth the trouble and the war would be over just like that."

"I can't believe you're being this naive!" Melissa said, shaking her head and throwing up her hands. "Maybe if you would have left Pandaria and seen more of the world, you wouldn't be so damned bigoted!" Melissa was long-suffering, but now she had had enough. Hearing Xing's oblivious remarks about what had happened in Kalimdor was more than enough.

"I'm not bigoted," Xing replied. "I can't be; I'm black _and_ white. It's you outsiders who hate each other and start race wars for fun whenever you..." Melissa closed her book and prepared to leave. "Wait, no, I said something wrong. I'm sorry. Please, sit! We haven't even eaten yet!"

"I don't need to eat right now," Melissa grumbled.

"Nonsense!" Xing interjected. "You're so thin, I can hardly believe you're the same woman in your story who had a child."

"You think _that's_ amazing?" Melissa sarcastically replied. "I've had three and only gained a little weight."

"That's downright unhealthy!" Xing stated. "You have to stay and finish the story so we can eat, please!"

Melissa paused, her anger starting to simmer back down to annoyance. Slowly she placed the book back down on the table and took her seat.

"Are you sure you won't interrupt me again?" Melissa asked.

"I promise," Xing said. "Please, sit down. I'd love to hear the rest of your story."

The human smiled. She was doing now what she had been wanting to do ever since childhood, despite the many twists and turns her life had taken her.

"Alright," Melissa nodded, having finally cooled down. "We're coming to the end of the story. Now pay attention, because here is where the story gets _really_ interesting."

* * *

 **(AN: Another reason i hated _Mists of Pandaria_ was how the Pandaren simplified the entire history of _Warcraft_ , from _Orcs and Humans_ to _Cataclysm_ , as "just a race war", yet their own racism is excused as acceptable. I might have been able to accept their "smow down!" lazy behavior if they weren't such self-righteous pricks)**

 **(In regards to this story, i made up for the last chapter being short by posting a long one. I've tried _really_ hard to make the attraction and care that Melissa and Tharbin had for each other seem real. This might come as a terrible surprise for some of you who frequent tumblr and believe that heterosexual love is "oppressive" and "nonexistent", but some people actually care for their loved ones: I've tried to show that in this story. I also had some fun with the Wyverns, especially those ridiculous _Elder Scrolls_ fans who complained about the dragons being "wyverns" because they had four limbs instead of six [represented by that silly gnome])  
**


	9. Beacon

**(AN: This chapter ended up being twice as big as the last one! Lots of stuff happening in this story, plenty of cameos from canon characters and OCs)**

 **(Enjoy!)**

* * *

 **Beacon**

There were certainly more people in the Alliance camp after the truce was called; there were other irregularities as well. Melissa was still getting used to the large green monsters lumbering around the camp, or the sound of drums at night and the guttural sound of their voices. There were no Goblins or dragons in this Horde, but there were Trolls as well: tall, thin, creatures with long, pointed ears, blue-gray skin and tusks in their mouths just like the Orcs. They were less monstrous than the Orcs, but were no less savage and scary: some of them carried staves upon which hanged shrunken heads.

Even more massive than the Orcs, but decidedly less fearful than either them or the Trolls, were the bull-men. A few days after the truce was passed, most of the Horde moved north. Apparently there was some problem with one of their leaders, and they needed the help of the Alliance Expedition to save him. They left a small number with the Expedition's main camp to assist with the defense, as well as whatever they needed for the saving of the Horde's chieftain. While Melissa was moving through the medic's tent, tending to the wounded, she heard a bit of a scuffle outside the tent flaps. She pushed open the tent and saw three Orcs threatening to start a fight with a large brown bull-man. Tharbin had fallen asleep after a few rounds the previous night with some of his company (which seemed to happen now that the Expedition was working with the Horde), and his armor was sitting inside their tent. Melissa walked out as quickly as she could, seeming to not pay attention to the brewing conflict, entered their tent, took Tharbin's sword and walked towards the Orcs.

"What's this about, then?" she asked.

"This not your concern, puny human!" one of the Orcs retorted.

Another laughed. "Haha, you think you strong with that little sword in your hand? An Orc baby could defeat you unarmed!"

"If we're supposed to be working together," Melissa said, for some reason she couldn't quite articulate. "We can't be fighting among each other."

"And what puny human do if we don't agree?" the first Orc mocked.

"Go back to your tents, pink-skin!" the third Orc shouted. "This piece of meat is ours to pulverize. It not your business."

"But why are you fighting him?" Melissa asked.

The first Orc laughed again. "Orcs don't need no reason to pummel the weak!"

"He's clearly bigger than you," Melissa added. "Do you really think he's weak?"

"Brown cow might be big," the third Orc said. "But he slow, he stupid, he weak. Not fit for healing or fighting, but for punching and kicking."

"Kick him in balls!" the second Orc urged. "See if he squeal like pink-skins!"

"If you really believed that," Melissa interjected. "Why not fight someone else? Someone who's worthy to fight?"

"What fun in that? Might lose," the first Orc said. "Plenty fun breaking nose of weak cow who can't fight back."

The third Orc grumbled. "The pink-skin is right. The Warchief wouldn't approve of fighting someone who can't fight for themselves."

"Warchief can suck my green balls!" the first Orc said. "Me no join Horde not to fight. If he want to make us weak like puny human, then he no worth my loyalty. Me hope those she-elves in forest kill him good."

"Do you have no honor?" the second Orc interjected. "Are you just like warlocks?"

"Perhaps warlocks right," the first Orc said. "Perhaps Grom right. Perhaps Gul'dan right. They understand what mean to be true Orc: crush weak, take what theirs, no mercy. Horde better off in good old days, before new Warchief. It true his name mean slave in human-speak?"

"Come on, now, Kro'gash," the third Orc insisted. "We find someone worthy to fight."

The second Orc spit on the brown bull-man, then fell behind the third one. The first Orc, however, was not yet done. Dropping the fur loin-cloth that he wore, he let out a foul yellow stream into the bull-man's face with a mocking laugh. The third Orc punched him in the face with a loud oath in their guttural tongue.

"You have no honor, maggot!" the third Orc said.

"Who need honor?" the first Orc retorted. "Honor make Orcs weak. Horde strong without honor, crush puny human city."

Suddenly a rage filled Melissa, a rage that could not be sated. In that moment, her rage became personified inwardly with a great heat that filled her body. Outwardly it was manifested as a bright ray of light that struck the first Orc, sending him crashing to the ground in shame with his loin-cloth down. The other two Orcs laughed at the folly of their comrade, who cowered away in tears. By now the sorry situation had ended, and Melissa walked back to her tent, placed the sword down, then returned to the medic's tent for a clean cloth and approached the bull-man.

"You shouldn't have done that, pink-skin," he said, in a low, rumbling voice. "They were right."

"No one deserves to be treated that way," Melissa replied, wiping the urine from off the bull-man's face.

"It's not self-pity," the bull said. "It's the truth. I was brought in to join the Horde because they needed healers, but I am a poor healer."

"But you are quite large," Melissa stated. "Shouldn't you have defended yourself?"

"I move slowly," the bull admitted ruefully. "Therefore I've never been good in a fight, even among my own people. But I have been trained in the ways of the spirits, and had hoped to use my knowledge to help my tribe, as well as the Horde. But I am afraid that I am quite useless."

"Oh, come now," Melissa replied. "There must be something you're good at..." She then noticed that he had mentioned 'spirits.' "Way of the spirits? What's that?"

"The way of a shaman, pink-skin," the bull stated. "It is the way of my people."

"So, what are you exactly?" Melissa asked. "I've never seen your people before where I'm from."

"We call ourselves the Shu'halo," the bull-man replied. "I believe in your tongue is...Tauren. I am Gar of the Earthwalker tribe, a tribe known in these lands for shaman. And what are you, pink-skin?"

"We're humans," Melissa replied. "My name is Melissa Redmane."

"What tribe do you belong to, Melissa Redmane?" Gar asked.

"We don't have tribes where I'm from," Melissa said. "We have kingdoms. I'm a subject of the Kingdom of Lordaeron...at least I was, until it was destroyed."

"You have lost your home, Redmane?" Gar inquired. "I am sorry. If you have come to Kalimdor to find a new land for your people, there is plenty of land here for everyone."

"Thank you," Melissa stated somberly. "Let me ask you something: would you like to be a better healer?"

"If it is the will of the Earth-Mother," Gar replied.

"I know a few things about healing herbs," Melissa stated. "I would love to learn about this new land. Perhaps you can tell me about Kalimdor and I will show you what I know about healing?"

"Thank you, Redmane," Gar nodded. "I would appreciate that very much."

Within a few hours, Melissa found herself working side by side with Gar in the medic's tent. She soon learned that he wasn't very good with mixing the healing herbs: either he would use too many or too few. However, there was something he had some proficiency with: casting splints and tying bandages. When asked about this, Gar told Melissa that his father was a tanner and he had learned the secrets of how to skin and cure kodo hides and make leather for tents and armor out of them.

"The kodo are large, horned beasts that roam the plains of this land," Gar stated. "From the edge of Ashenvale Forest to the Thousand Needles Canyon. They are magnificent beasts, who have been domesticated by our hunters and used as pack animals and war-mounts, the same way the green-skinned Orcs ride on wolves."

"And us humans on horses," Melissa added.

The day was dry, but not as hot here at the base of Stonetalon Mountain than out on the plains. Wounded humans were coming in slowly from the outposts; they spoke of red-skinned Orcs whose bodies bristled with horns and spikes and their eyes burned with green fel fire. Apparently there had been some kind of incident where the Orcs of the Warsong clan became corrupted with fel magic. The particulars, of course, were still muddled. There were few wounded of the Expedition, and the Orcs still did not trust their soldiers with any but their own: therefore the human and the Tauren were allowed a moment of peace. During this they sat outside of the tent and had a good long talk. Many of the things Gar spoke of were strange to Melissa, as she had never known life outside of her village in Hillsbrad.

"I've heard you speak of the Earth-Mother several times before," she said. "Who or what is the Earth-Mother?"

"She is all around us," Gar replied. "In the bones of Stonetalon Mountain, in the trees of Ashenvale Forest, and the rivers that flow down from Mount Hyjal. An'she and Mu'sha, what you would call the sun and the greater moon, are her eyes. She is the one that made my kind and placed us in this land to possess it. The Earth-Mother gave life to the Tauren, and it is to her that our spirits return when this life is over."

"And you believe this to be true?" Melissa asked, trying to hide her own skepticism.

"Without a doubt," Gar nodded. "I have entered trances before and heard her speaking to me through the elements of earth, wind, fire and water."

At this, Melissa's interest was piqued. "She speaks to you?"

"Yes," the Tauren nodded. "After many years of learning to quiet my thoughts, I have learned to listen to what the spirits have to say."

"What do they say now?" Melissa asked. Gar closed his eyes and stroked one of the three braided beards that hung from his chin.

"The young Warchief is troubled," Gar began. "He fears that his friend has doomed his entire people to slavery to the fel. The spirits of the sky are fearful: they speak of a coming darkness, one that burns with fire."

"What about me?" Melissa asked. "What do the spirits say about me?"

"Hmm," he mused. "The spirits are restless around you, Redmane. You fear for the lives of your family, those far and those near."

Melissa smiled ruefully. "That's true. I left my family and friends to come out here, not knowing that we would not be returning. But I have my husband with me, and..." She looked down at her swollen stomach. "...this one." She then turned back to Gar and smiled. "That's quite impressive, really."

"It is nothing," Gar dismissed. "Even an initiate of the Earthwalker shaman would be expected to be able to hear the voices of the elements."

"Can't you use them to help your healing?" Melissa asked.

Gar lowered his head and sighed. "The spirits of the water have always been quieter than the other elements. That is the element that brings life, the one which the healing shaman evoke when they mend wounds."

"That's not your fault, though," Melissa replied. "If the water doesn't speak to you, maybe that's not what you're supposed to do?"

"It doesn't ignore me," Gar said. "I _have_ heard its voice, only faintly. Perhaps, with time and discipline, I will be able to hear its voice clearly."

"But in the meantime," Melissa added. "Isn't there some way you could use your connection to the spirits to help your people?"

Gar sighed. "There are some, like the young Warchief Thrall, who can call upon the spirits to empower their weapons in battle. But, alas, I am too slow to wield a weapon effectively."

"Don't your people have mages?" Melissa asked.

"What?"

"You know, magic users."

"Magic," Gar mused. "I do not understand what is meant by this word. I have heard some of the Orcs and Trolls use it, but they seem to use it to mean many things."

"Well," Melissa tried to explain. "Back where I'm from, there are people who spend their lives studying arcane magic. They control it, and use it to manipulate the world around them, whether to learn knowledge or defend their own without using swords. Those are mages, users of magic. Isn't there anything like that with your spirits?"

"Hmm," Gar mumbled. "I have heard of some shaman who can command the spirits of earth and wind without the use of weapons. Perhaps that is something I could do."

"You see?" Melissa returned. "You can be of some use yet..."

Even as she spoke, dark clouds began to fill the sky, covering the sun with a sickly green pallor. Bright bursts of emerald flame fell like stars from the sky down into the desert plains to the north. The soldiers in the camp scrambled about in panic as giant creatures, like golems but filled with emerald fire, rose from where the fire-balls touched the ground. Tharbin, who had been awake for several hours and at his post, joined the other guards in a shield formation on the northern edge of the camp. From there a horn sounded and a group of Orcs riding large wolves came riding down towards the Expedition camp.

One of the tents burst into flames as one of the infernal monstrosities came to life from its ruin. Melissa cried for Gar to move, but noticed that he was standing perfectly still, his large, four-fingered hands open and outstretched, with one held up towards the sky.

"Spirits of the wind," he spoke in a clear, loud voice. "Grant me strength."

From the black clouds, ringed with fel fire, came a bolt of lightning. Not tainted by the emerald flame, or a fire-ball coming to crash down into an infernal, but a simple bolt of pure lightning. To Melissa's astonished eyes, the bolt struck Gar's hand, but he was not hurt as those who were struck by lightning. Instead, the bolt was captured and crackled about his hand. With a loud roar, he aimed his hand at the infernal that had appeared from out of the tent: the lightning bolt coarsed through the air and struck the infernal in the chest, sending it crashing backwards to the ground, fragments of fel-slate falling off the point where struck the lightning bolt.

"That was amazing!" Melissa exclaimed. "How did you do that?"

"I spoke," Gar replied. "And the wind answered."

"Well, let's hope it continues answering," Melissa returned. "It's going to be a tough fight."

In the end, the fight didn't last very long once the wolf-riders came to the Expedition camp. At their head was the Orcish Warchief Thrall, a more powerful shaman than Gar Earthwalker by far. Melissa was blown away by what she saw this Orc clad in steel armor could do: at a word, lightning sprung from his hands to every infernal that was nearby. Pale spirits that bore the shape of wolves would over-power them at his command, or even the ground itself would tremble and upset their march.

"He is a powerful shaman," Gar told Melissa once the battle was over. "The spirits are strong with him. It is an honor to fight under his command."

* * *

Melissa did not learn about what happened with the Horde's Warchief and his friend until much later. The Expedition, meanwhile, began to make their way northward into Ashenvale Forest. On the southern borders of the forest, both the Expedition and the Horde began building forward camps: apparently some of the infernal demons that had appeared several days ago had fled into the forest, and Thrall and Jaina wanted to eradicate them. However, their presence in the forest seemed to be greatly unwelcome.

The Redmanes had seen many forests in their times. Even Tharbin himself had wandered off into the woods in search of a stray animal that had gotten loose from his family's farm. But those woods were nothing in comparison to Ashenvale. By day the woods were notoriously quiet, with only the faint sounds of birds in the trees, deer prancing through the cover of leaves upon the ground, and maybe the distant roar of some bear. The trees were unlike any that had been seen in Lordaeron: none of them seemed to be losing their leaves, though late autumn was fast approaching. The leaves on the trees also were of such deep green hues, and some even bore a violet hue.

But when night came, this beautiful forest came alive in a most horrifying way. The trees now creaked and groaned, moved by an unseen wind: none could understand their voices, but they caused even the stoutest heart to quake with fear. Shapes fluttered and moved beneath their shadows, making scarcely a sound; in a moment they would appear, then vanish upon a second glance, leading many in the camp, both Orc and human, to think they were seeing things or going mad. There also appeared lights in the trees, tiny balls of blue light that wavered and danced between the boles. Anyone foolish enough to follow those lights was never seen or heard from again. In addition to this, a sharp-eared listener could perceive the whisper of voices all around them during the night.

Few could sleep under such terrifying atmosphere. Then the disappearances came. No more than a few at a time, but someone would wander off towards the light, or turn their backs towards the woods, then they would disappear or fall to the ground with arrows in their throats. The humans blamed the Orcs, but some of the Orcs told tales of tall Elven women who lived within these woods. Lady Proudmoore was most curious about these voices and would often remain awake long into the night, trying to catch something of their words. One night, the vigorous movement of her baby drove sleep from Melissa Redmane, who sat up in the tent that belonged to her husband: he was on guard duty because of the strange nocturnal habits of the forest. While she was grumbling her frustration, Melissa thought she heard the voices outside the tent. Awkwardly she rose to her feet and shuffled to the door to listen to what was going on. Near at hand she saw Lady Proudmoore and a High Elf standing in the center of the camp, looking this way and that at the trees all around them.

"Strange," Lady Proudmoore said. "I thought I knew Thalassian, but these voices are speaking a whole different dialect. Some words are familiar, but I can't place the rest. Alessan, what do you think?"

"Why ask me?" the Elf at her side retorted haughtily. "Do you think I should know because I'm an Elf, and those stupid Orcs think these voices are from Elves?"

"Well, not exactly," Jaina replied. "I only assumed that, since it was similar to Thalassian..."

"That I should know what they're saying, right?" the Elf sneered. "I must know everything about Elves because I am one, is that right, filthy human wench?"

"I...I'm sorry!" Jaina excused. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Your very presence offends me!" Alessan retorted. "You reek of filth. Are you on your issue, human?"

"Enough!" Jaina snapped. Melissa was surprised: this was the first time she had seen Lady Proudmoore lose her temper at the Elves. "I am still the leader of the Alliance Expedition, for which you volunteered your services. You haven't delivered any services since volunteering, which I was willing to ignore, since I knew about your predicament and the Quel'Dorei have always been invaluable allies. But you will treat me with respect..."

"Oh, how very condescending!" Alessan returned. "The high and mighty human mage of Dalaran knows about our predicament. Respect? Filthy human wench thinks she deserves respect! Where was your vaunted respect for us as your invaluable allies when your lover burned down _my_ forests, slaughtered _my_ people, and corrupted the Sunwell? Here's the respect you deserve!" The Elf spit directly in Jaina's face. In an instant, Alessan was encapsulated in ice that covered him from neck to toe.

"Enough!" Jaina shouted. "You may not like me, but that matters little. I don't particularly like the Orcs, but we have to work together. I suggest you do the same." Alessan made no answer, but gently nodded. Lady Proudmoore released him and returned to gazing at the trees. Melissa was floored at the sternness of her response: she dreaded the next people to face her wrath in such a moment, when her patience had reached its end. While she was about to try in vain to return to sleep, she heard Alessan muttering to himself as he walked away.

"Insolent little wench!" he stated. "Who does she think she is, ordering us to work with her kind! They don't deserve our immaculate skill and dedicated assistance to their cause. We've done everything they asked, sacrificed so much, and this is how they treat us! Bah! The Alliance has failed the Quel'Dorei..."

The night came to a close with seven dead and twice that missing. Tharbin returned to the tent exhausted, telling Melissa of the strange things he had seen that night. He had heard the voices, and seen shapes and lights moving through the forest. She begged him to request that he be excused from guard duty, but he refused.

"I've never shirked my duty to King and country, love," he said. "No matter the danger, I will continue to serve."

Melissa was still reticent about his decision, since she feared that he would be taken by the forest one evening and she would lose her husband and have to face the pain and fear of delivery alone. It was a new and scary adventure she would be undertaking, and she would rather undertake it with someone she loved than alone; especially now that the rest of her family might be dead.

* * *

The next night, things went from bad to worse. One of the scouting camps deeper in the forest was completely destroyed. More than just a few disappearances or bodies filled with arrows; the entire garrison was slaughtered, Orcs and humans killed without discrimination. Less than ten survivors came running back from the assault to report it: they told of a host of armed women striking from the shadows, scattering the moment the defenders rallied for a counterattack, then regrouping to attack from behind. The Expedition forces held until they could hold no longer, then they dispersed: the Orcs fought and died to the last man.

But no sooner had the survivors returned to the main camp when the retreat turned to a rout. The darkness of the night became even deeper, the earth shook and the trees trembled. Through the canopy above came flashes of fel fire: the same infernal storm that had assaulted them in the desert. But it was worse this time: much worse in fact. Armies of ghoulish creatures appeared seemingly out of nowhere, followed by skeletons in armor bearing swords: many of their gear similar to that born by the soldiers of the Expedition and the Horde. With them were massive creatures that could only be described as demons: horned and winged monstrosities bearing blades that burned with fel-fire.

"Retreat!" Lady Proudmoore gave the order. "Fall back to our camp in the Barrens!"

"Too late, milady!" a captain shouted. "They've cut off the path southward."

"Tell them to move west," Lady Proudmoore replied. "Maybe we can lose them in the forest and regroup later."

Within a few minutes, the camp was abuzz with activity. A line of soldiers was placed around the perimeter of the camp to give those within time enough to withdraw: Tharbin was among that group, holding the line against the wave of the skeletons and ghouls. Melissa would have to go with the supplies, as they were being ferried out with the workers. She strongly protested, and even tried to attack the soldiers who ushered her into the cart, but all she got out of it was a sore hand from punching a steel breast-plate.

The supply wagon rode west, moving as fast as they could. It was not easy going in the slightest: whereas the Barrens in the south were relatively flat, here there were not only no roads, but large rocks and twisted roots that made the going even more difficult. On the back of the cart, Melissa was being jostled about so much, she feared what this would do to her. On each side of the cart ran armed Expedition footmen to guard the workers and the supplies: their enemies did not need them, but the Expedition and the Horde still did. As they passed on into the woods, the sound of fighting and pursuit echoed through the trees on all sides. Suddenly there was a loud roar and seven ghoulish creatures leaped out of the woods at the wagon.

"Ambush!" one of the soldiers cried. "Run for your lives, we'll regroup in the clearing ahead!"

One soldier threw his shield at one of the ghouls, then offered his hand to Melissa Redmane. Taking his hand, she climbed off the wagon. Then, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, she ran with him as fast as she could. Unfortunately, he was slowed down more than she was sped up due to her condition. She felt every bump, rock and root which she and the soldier hit on their way away; it felt as though they weren't getting anywhere.

As they were making their slow but determined way away from the ambush, an arrow struck the soldier in the back, sending him falling to his knees. Melissa tried to pull him to his feet, but then a sudden tightness in her stomach sent her to her knees as well, trying to keep from falling face down and hurting her unborn child. Another arrow whizzed out of the darkness beneath the trees and struck the soldier in the slit of his helmet's visor: an impossible kill-shot only an Elf could have made.

Melissa collapsed to the leaf-covered forest floor, clutching her stomach as the pain intensified. Though it was still dark, the moons were brightly shining tonight, shedding rays of light through the canopy. Melissa thought she saw a figure step out of the shadows into the light. It was a woman from the silhouette, and the long pointed ears showed that she was an Elf; but this was different than any Elf she had ever seen. She was very tall, quite possibly taller than Talus Redmane, one of the tallest people Melissa had known. She was clad in leather and fur, and there were leaves in her hair: perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it seemed as though her skin was a shade of midnight violet. A quiver full of arrows hung from a leather belt upon her hip and in her hands was a fully drawn bow with an arrow fitted into the string which, to Melissa's dread, was pointed directly at her. But it was the eyes that were the most startling: they shone silver like brilliant starlight, but were narrowed in hatred.

For a lengthy moment, the purple Elf kept Melissa Redmane in her sights, but did not release the arrow in her bow. As she hesitated, another such Elf woman appeared from out of the shadows and spoke to her fellow in their strange tongue; the same language that the voices in the woods had used. Melissa did not know what they spoke, but in time she learned what was spoken: it was not good.

"There you are, sister!" the second Elf greeted as she stepped out of the trees. "I've killed six already. The last two begged for their lives: these outlander males are weak! Not even worth fighting." She then noticed that her fellow was holding another one at bow-point.

"By Elune!" the second Elf exclaimed. "You've got two of them. Well, come on now, shoot it."

"I can't," the first Elf shook her head. "This one is with child."

"It's a filthy outlander, Jenassa!" the second Elf retorted. "Don't you remember what the Priestess told us? They killed Cenarius, they all deserve to die!"

"This is not our way, Anara!" the first Elf stated.

"Kill it now," Anara said, ignoring the other Elf's dismay. "Aim for the belly, make sure you kill its spawn as well."

"Can't you hear yourself, sister?" Jenassa asked. "Whenever we hunt or cull an infestation, we don't slaughter them all and we _never_ kill any with young."

"These outlanders are lower than animals!" Anara retorted. "If you won't kill it, I will!" At this, there was the sound of fighting nearby, which caused Anara to cast her eyes behind her back.

"They're coming," Anara urged. "Hurry up and kill it, then we'll find the Priestess again."

With this, the second Elf took off into the woods. Melissa still kept her eyes aimed on the first one. Her eyes were still on the human, though they were not narrowed in hatred. Instead they seemed to be filled with doubt: though these eyes were silver points of starlight, Melissa knew the look of silent, inward doubt. From the trees to her left came the sound of clanking armor, which roused the Elf from her hesitation. She lowered the bow, relaxing the string, then stepped back into the trees. No sooner had she stepped into the shadows but the Elf vanished, leaving behind nothing more than a glimmer of silver eyes.

A few moments later, a large Orc wielding an axe crashed through the trees. Melissa squealed at first, her memories of the fearful nights in Hillsbrad during the Second War returning in force. To her surprise, the Orc held a large green hand down to her.

"Hurry, young one," the old Orc said. "The undead are hot on our trail."

"I can't run," Melissa panted. "I..."

With this, the old Orc tied the large axe he bore to his back, then lifted up Melissa and carried her in his arms. Though the Orc was old and clad in almost as much steel armor as the Orc Warchief, he was unbelievably swift and strong. He ran the rest of the way, coming to the clearing where the Expedition supply wagon had broken through from the ghoulish ambush: five of the soldiers were dead and three were wounded. Those who were still able to wield blades habitually drew theirs as the Orc approached. They lowered their weapons when they saw the human in his arms, whom he placed on the wagon.

"Wait," Melissa called out to the Orc as he was preparing to leave. "Why did you do that? I've heard your people talk: they value strength above anything else."

"I saw that you were with child," the old Orc said in the common tongue: he knew it well and had a more articulate command of it than most of the Orcs she had encountered. "I too have a son, safely at home with his people, away from the horrors of war. If anything were to happen to him, I would face death itself to save him. From one parent to another, I hope you understand."

"Yes," Melissa nodded.

The rest of the Expedition forces arrived shortly: they were fewer in number, but, to Melissa's relief, Tharbin had survived. When she told him about the incident in the glade, he was beside himself. When he had the opportunity, he spoke to Lady Proudmoore and requested that she not be allowed to remain in the forward camp. Unfortunately for everyone, Lady Proudmoore admitted that there would be no going back to their other camps until they had dealt with the undead and their demon masters. This meant that the Expedition forces now in Ashenvale Forest could not send any to the outlying camps in the Barrens.

* * *

Over the next several days, the Expedition and the Horde continued moving through the woods, engaging the undead wherever they appeared. They rarely had a substantial camp, for the Elven women attacked every night with the same tactics as before. Despite this, they were slowly making their way up the mountains and deeper into the woods. As for the Redmanes, Tharbin saw action every day and night as a soldier of the Expedition; Melissa tried her best to remain optimistic, but the pain grew with each passing day, occurring more and more frequently.

As the weeks passed and the days beneath the trees in Ashenvale became cool, the Expedition and the Horde continued their battle against the undead and their demon masters. Yet with every day, their forces were being pushed deeper into the forest, farther up the mountains and deeper into the territory of the Elven women. Though the Orcs and humans were starting to get along better with each passing day, as the situation grew more desperate, the Elven women continued their relentless nighttime attacks. From the reports of survivors of the various attacks, the Elven women would attack the undead and demons as well. Any attempts to make contact with them were met with arrows to those foolish enough to attempt.

It was around the time of Hallow's End when contact was successfully made. Some of the leaders of the Elven women met with the Orc Warchief and Lady Proudmoore under the arbitration of a third party. Whoever this third party was, it seemed to have quite the effect on their leaders, for another truce was called. Furthermore, the three armies began to make their way towards the large mountain for, as Tharbin heard, a final defensive against the undead.

It was during this time that Melissa got her first true glimpse, under the open sun, of these Elven women who called themselves Kal'Dorei, the Night Elves. Most of them were women indeed, but there were also a small number of male Kal'Dorei; mostly healers and druids, spiritual leaders gifted with control over the forces of nature. If the women were tall, then the men were taller still, most of them standing at seven feet. They were nocturnal, being active mostly during the nighttime hours; this helped them meld into the shadows, being invisible to the naked eye, which may or may not have been aided by their violet skin.

Within a few days, the Orcs, humans and Night Elves had arrived at the foot of the large mountain which the Tauren and Night Elves called Mount Hyjal. At the instruction of their leaders, the three armies had made three camps along the swiftest path up the mountain. The Expedition were encamped at the base of the mountain, with the Orcs half-way up, and the Night Elves on a plateau near the summit. For a time, Melissa was allowed some quality time with her husband Tharbin, as the undead had yet to make a move. At the base of the mountain, here among the clouds, they could see, in all of its glory, the great oak tree that Melissa had seen from afar in the desert. It truly was massive: its roots reached all the way to the Expedition base at the mountain's foot, its branches touched the heavens, and its trunk covered the entire summit of Mount Hyjal. Truly it was as the Night Elves called it: Nordrassil, the World Tree.

* * *

On the night of Hallow's End, the alarm-bells and horns in the Expedition camp resounded loudly. The entire camp was put on alert: footmen, including Tharbin Redmane, girded themselves in armor, bore their shields and took up their swords. Dwarven riflemen drank what could very well be their last mug of beer, then picked up their powder and their rifles. Knights in shining armor armed with maces and lances mounted their heavily-armored war-horses. High Elven priests and sorceresses tried to compose themselves for the battle ahead. Mortar teams filled their ammunition satchels with as many high-yield, incendiary shells the little Dwarves could carry. Gnomish aviators poured oil into the engines of their flying machines before strapping the flight goggles over their eyes and hopping into the cockpits. Savage Wildhammer Dwarves prayed for assitance from their ancestors before taking up their enchanted storm-hammers and mounting their gryphons.

As the sun set in the western sky, the smell of decay and rottenness filled the cool, mountain air. From the troop tents, Melissa could see them marching: the armies of the dead. It was the first time since she heard of them that she actually got to see these shambling monstrosities. Skeletons clad in the steel or bone armor of the Alliance or Horde lumbered forward, their eyes burning with a pale blue light. Ghouls with rotting flesh hanging from their ancient bones crawled forward on all fours, their mouths hanging hungrily open. Large spider creatures, things she had never seen before in her entire life, skittering among them on eight legs. Among them walked figures clad in black robes, walking upon staves with the skulls of goats upon their heads. At the rear walked the most hideous things any of the Alliance forces had ever seen: indescribable monstrosities, dozens of bodies sewn together into giant abominations.

All through the night the battle raged on: a vain and futile battle. Though the undead could be easily killed, especially with fire from the mortar teams, if they managed to kill even one soldier of the Alliance Expedition, the black-robed men in their ranks would raise them up as a mindless servant of the undead. So it was that the undead could afford to lose a hundred of their number more than the Expedition could afford to lose even one. As the night progressed, the Expedition forces grew weary: but the undead never tired. Inch by inch the shield wall was losing ground, being pushed back farther and farther into the Alliance camp. Fires were soon lit in the camp, which was now being overrun.

In the center, Lady Proudmoore was drawing signs in the earth which glowed with bright blue light. At a word, all those who were not fighting on the front-lines were ordered to step into the circle of power. Melissa cast her eyes back to Tharbin, who was still alive and standing amid the thickest of the fray, shield held alongside the other Alliance footmen. She wanted to wait for him, but knew that he would be among the last to leave, if he survived. Reluctantly, she joined the others who were making their way to the circle. There was a burst of green light, and suddenly Melissa found that her limbs felt as heavy as steel, weighing her down, preventing her escape. She tried to push herself forward, crawling on her hands and knees, but to no avail. Suddenly a familiar voice was heard emitting a laugh that sounded like a hacking cough.

"Hello, my pretty," the voice said. "Where is your precious light now?"

Melissa turned her head and saw one of the black-robed figures walking towards her. In the figure's hand was a staff upon whose head was a human skull, and upon the figure's hooded head was the skull of a goat. But the voice that spoke from the figure was unmistakable.

"Old lady Puck?" Melissa asked. "Wh...you're with the undead? Why?"

"Oh, so much has changed in your beloved Lordaeron, since you cowardly fled," Lillian Puck replied. "The Lich King has scourged your lands with the plague of undeath. It all lies in ruins now! Everyone you love is dead!"

"Please," Melissa begged. "Let me go. For my baby..."

"You think I want to kill you?" Lillian Puck asked. "Or that little parasite growing in your womb?" She laughed. "No, my pretty. I want you to do it. I want you to give in to the void and then kill it yourself: then you, weak-willed little b*tch, will die of your own accord."

"Why are you doing this?" Melissa asked. "Why side with these...monsters?"

"Ner'zhul is the master of death," Lillian Puck replied. "And the Burning Legion comes to end all life. By serving them, I serve the Lords of the Nameless Void. All will sink into oblivion, some sooner rather than later."

"You don't have to do this," Melissa urged. "Please, have mercy, like you did all those months ago. Release me, then we can..."

"What, redeem my soul?" old lady Puck retorted, then laughed again. "Oh, how naive, my pretty. I would rather be damned for all eternity than bend my knee in submission to the Light: to weakness! Look at yourself, pretty! You had such potential: I could have molded you, trained you, fashioned you into a weapon of shadow and destruction. You could have been powerful, more powerful than anything you could have imagined! But instead you traded it away for a life of slavery to a man, to the shackles of your Three Virtues!"

"The Light..." Melissa replied. "Is not weak..."

"The Light _is_ weak!" old lady Puck replied angrily. "The shadow will always be stronger. Your priests and prelates waste their lives respecting those that do not deserve respect; only power is worthy of admiration. Compassion is for the weak, and tenacity?" She laughed again.

"It is a lie told to comfort the weak and ignorant. There is no point to it, for the Nameless Void will devour everything in the end, including your precious Light! This world that has rejected me, scorned me, will be the first to fall!"

"If...this world falls..." Melissa tried again. "You'll fall with it..."

"As it must be," Lillian Puck smiled. "I left off caring about such trifles long ago; soon it will be your turn. Gaze into the abyss, my pretty. See the hunger of the Void-lords, and know that this world will soon fall!"

Under the old necromancer's spell, Melissa Redmane could not move. She was almost face down in the dirt, being crushed by the crippling spell that weighed her down, held her in place. Suddenly there was a piercing cry of agony, then the weight was lifted. Melissa lifted her head and saw old lady Puck on her knees, pierced through the back by a sword: a sword born by her husband Tharbin no less.

"Again, I am...beaten...by _your_ world..." the old lady bemoaned.

"No one ever beat you, old lady Puck!" Tharbin retorted. "You rejected our people, scorned the Light, and mocked us for years behind closed doors and in our chapel. You brought this upon yourself!"

Then, to the surprise of both of them, old Lillian Puck let out a cackling laugh.

"The Void comes," she cried out, her voice fading. "You will all...die..."

With that, the old woman collapsed onto the ground and breathed no more. Tharbin removed his sword and cleaned it upon her robes, then sheathed it and helped Melissa onto her feet.

"You're still here?" he asked. "Why didn't you leave with the others?"

"She stopped me before I could reach the circle of power," Melissa replied.

"Come on!" he urged. "Lady Proudmoore created another one. This is our last chance to leave before we're overrun!"

The two slowly made their way to the glowing circle of power. The rest of the Alliance forces had either already gone, were now making their way there, or had fallen and were being assimilated into the army of the dead. There alone stood Jaina Proudmoore, leader of the Alliance Expedition, the survivors of Lordaeron, against the armies of the Undead Scourge. Her staff was held aloft in one hand, bringing down a blizzard of biting ice against the undead, and her violet cloak, glistening with spell-woven runes, billowed in the night wind. Before her there towered a colossal demon, larger than all the others they had seen. The earth trembled and burned away where its hooves touched the ground, defiling the very earth itself.

Even as the demon-lord approached Lady Proudmoore to challenge her, the teleportation spell that had been cast on the circle of power was activated and the last of the Alliance Expeditionary forces vanished from their burning base and appeared in the Night Elf camp near the summit. It looked indistinguishable from a forest, save that there was a single lodge and several wells whose waters glistened in the light of the moons. The Night Elves here moved about, but their movements were difficult to discern in the darkness.

As they were making their way to the Night Elven lodge, Melissa suddenly cried out and collapsed to the ground. Tharbin helped her to her feet and together they walked towards the pale-blue glowing lanterns of the lodge. At his side, Tharbin could hear his wife panting and groaning in pain.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I don't know," she returned. "I...it hurts so much. I have to sit down."

"D-Do you think..." he stammered. "Well, I mean, we're in the middle of a battle here!"

"I don't think the baby cares!" Melissa retorted.

"Don't worry," Tharbin assured her. "We'll get through this together."

Melissa smiled, then planted a kiss on his cheek. This was exactly what she wanted. Her greatest fear had been facing this moment alone. Together they walked to one of the lodges in the Night Elven camp. On the walls of the lodge were weapon racks filled with such weapons as the Night Elven women preferred: bows, quivers full of arrows, spears, triple-bladed glaives, suits of armor in fur, leather and light mail. There was an empty space on one side of the wall between two armor racks, and it was here that Tharbin let his wife have a seat, her back against the wall.

"What can I do?" Tharbin asked.

"I...I don't know," Melissa returned. It was a truthful answer: before the Expedition, she had hoped on giving birth at home, under the watchful eyes of her mother-in-law Selvina Redmane, a woman who was more than knowledgeable, having born seven children. Instead she was with someone who had no experience and didn't know the first thing about what she was going through.

"Get me some water first," Melissa said. "I'm thirsty. Then..."

"Yes?"

"Find someone who can help," she returned. "A healer or...a priest."

"Right," Tharbin nodded. "I'll be right back, just hold on." He planted a kiss on her cheek and took off through the Night Elven camp, looking for what he had been told to find. He was only gone for five minutes, but that felt like an eternity. Each passing minute the tightness in her stomach intensified. At the end of the period, Tharbin returned with a clay cup in his hand, filled with sparkling water.

"I couldn't find a healer, honey," he returned. "These Night Elf men, they say they've been asleep for ten thousand years. They say there haven't been any children since then. But here, I did manage to find you water." He placed the cup in Melissa's hands, and she drank the whole thing in one gulp.

"How's that?" he asked. "They said the waters of their moon-wells had healing powers."

"It's a bit better," sighed Melissa. "I'm still uncomfortable, but the pain has subsided." She held out her right hand. "Stay with me."

Tharbin took Melissa's hand in his own and kissed it. "Yes, always."

* * *

The night seemed to last forever. Melissa's pain slowly returned: first minutes apart, then mere seconds. Beyond the walls of the lodge, they could hear, coming from further down the mountain, the sounds of battle. Orcish drums rolled wildly from their camp, bursts of fel-fire could be seen raining down from the sky, and though there was no rain, the rumble of thunder and flashes of lightning periodically burst from the general area of their encampment. For so many years, Melissa had feared the sound of Orcish drums: now, having seen the army of the dead and their demon masters first-hand, those drums were her hope and consolation. If the drums stopped now, the enemy would be upon them.

Eventually they were joined by one of the Night Elf women warriors, who called themselves Sentinels. To Melissa's surprise and alarm, it was Jenassa Duskwatcher, the very one who had her in her sights but a few weeks ago. From her she learned about what she and her fellow Sentinel Anara Chillwind had said in the glade.

"Thank you," Melissa said.

"Don't thank me, child," Jenassa returned. "Thank Elune."

Tharbin was understandably un-trusting of anyone, man or woman, who had pointed an arrow at his wife.

It was from Jenassa that the Redmanes learned of what was going on in the valley below, as well as the predicament here above. The undead and their demon masters were marching upon the Orc encampment. The fighting was most intense there, with the spirits of the earth and wind coming to the aid of the Orc shaman, as well as their Warchief. For a while it seemed that the enemy could be held off long enough for something to happen. Here at the summit, the remnant of the Expedition forces and the Sentinels were preparing for the final defense.

"Our leader, Shan'do Stormrage," Jenassa explained. "Believes that the demon-lord Archimonde plans to drain the energies of Nordrassil. If that happens, all will be lost."

"What can anyone do?" Tharbin asked. "I was right up there on the front-lines of the Expedition camp, until the very end. I saw him throw a bolt of red lightning that turned a heavily armored knight inside out."

"The Burning Legion were stopped once, ten thousand years ago," Jenassa stated. "Shan'do Stormrage believes they can be stopped again. But how he plans to do that, or what will happen if we succeed...no one can tell."

Melissa heard all of this, and it was not very encouraging. Worse still, the pain returned with greater intensity. Both Tharbin and Jenassa remained with her, but neither of them were very helpful. She was starting to wonder why she had thought it was such a good idea to spend this time with Tharbin.

Hours passed. The darkness began to dissipate. In the east, the inky black sky became a lighter shade of indigo. From where they could see outside the hunter's lodge, the three inhabitants saw many points of light swirling through the trees. Jenassa said that these were wisps, spirits of Night Elves long dead. But where they were going she could not tell.

The drums stopped. Then the sound of Alliance horns resounded near at hand.

"I'm sorry, love," Tharbin said to his wife. "I have to go."

"No, please!" she returned. "Please, stay with me. It's...almost time! I can feel it."

"We're being called to the defense," Tharbin sighed. "I don't have a choice." He leaned in and kissed her sweating forehead. "Light be with you." With that, he took up his sword and left the lodge to join the Expeditionary forces. From the other side of the lodge, a voice called out in the Night Elven dialect.

"I must go as well, young one," Jenassa said. "Stay strong. Mother-Moon guide you and your child to safe paths."

Before Melissa could protest, the Night Elf had disappeared into the fading shadows outside the lodge. Now she was alone, truly alone. The pain in her abdomen intensified beyond imagination: it felt as though her stomach was tightening and her lower extremities ripped open very slowly at the most tender point. It was all she could do to keep breathing, to avoid passing out from the agony. In this moment, the dark thoughts of doubt came back to haunt her: this time, however, they took form in a familiar voice. That voice was the voice of old lady Lillian Puck.

 _There is no power in the Light: there is no light! You are all food for the burning shadow: we all are! Soon this world will be devoured! You will all sink into the nameless void!_

She had never told Tharbin about her encounters with Lillian Puck. How could she? He was confident in what he knew about her, as was everyone else in the village. But she had given her a chance to bear a child: one that she had cursed as well.

 _It matters not; nothing matters! The Void will consume us all in the end! We will all die!_

From across the Great Sea came a spear of golden light: dawn had come at last. But the dawn seemed a mockery. She could hear the battle outside. The loud, earth-shaking steps of the demon-lord Archimonde the Defiler were close now, causing the very earth beneath her feet to tremble. A deep, rumbling horn was blown, echoing through the forests around the summit of Mount Hyjal: heralding the coming of doom. The darkness was now closing around her.

 _Gaze into the abyss, my pretty. See the hunger of the Void-lords, and know that this world will soon fall!_

The pain was so great, Melissa was groaning and weeping at the same time, banging her fists vainly against the floor of the lodge. It was so intense that she could not bear it anymore. She wanted it to be over, for better or worse. The defenders had failed: Archimonde had reached the World Tree and doom was at hand. The world would be consumed by the Void, just as old lady Puck had promised. Had her vision been a lie? Had what she experienced in that glade so long ago been nothing more than a fantasy? She had followed the Light, obeying everything it had told her, but it all came to this? Dying in an Elven lodge on the Rim of the World here in Kalimdor, far away from home and family, forsaken by the Light?

Another voice appeared into her head, like the clearing ringing of tiny, silver bells.

 _We have never abandoned you, child of the Light._

"What is this?" she gasped. "I...I...where are you?"

 _In the Light,_ the voice said. _We are one._

"I can't see the Light anymore," Melissa wept. "It's so terribly dark."

 _Do not fear the darkness, child of the Light,_ said the voice. _The Shadow is great, but it is not invincible. It is bound by its hunger, enslaved by an insatiable lust of all life that will never be quenched. It cannot survive without the Light, but the Light endures without the Void. The Shadow will never reach into the mind of the Light: it only knows ravenous hunger, and cannot comprehend that which it does not understand._

"Help me, please," Melissa begged. "I feel so weak and exhausted. I can't do this anymore."

 _You have a greater destiny ahead of you,_ the voice replied. _Here you will only begin to discover your true potential. Gaze into the Light. See the path that lies before you, and find the strength to stand strong._

From out of the darkness, a small point of light appeared. It was not blinding, but warm, like the touch of sunlight after a night in the cold, high mountain air. The light began to overwhelm the darkness, until there was nothing but light. In that light she saw a strange place, where Light and Shadow were perfectly balanced. There she saw herself, standing tall and proud, wielding a beacon of the Holy Light in her hand, defying the burning shadow even as Jaina Proudmoore had defied Archimonde. Only she was not alone. Beside her were others, men and women of all the races of Azeroth, those that she knew and some others she had never seen in her life: some were clad in the robes of priests, others were clad in armor that burned with the radiance of the Light. Together they defied the burning shadow and drove it back into the Void from whence it came. Beside her she saw a young woman clad in the same armor as the others. To her amazement, she saw that this young woman bore the same green eyes that she had, but it was not her: it was the likeness of her in many ways. She noticed that the little girl was smiling, and it melted her heart: the girl's smile was Tharbin's smile. Her heart melted as she realized just who this young girl was, beaming with the gladness of victory, enveloped in the Light, standing beside her.

It was her child. Not a son, but a daughter.

The Light faded, but did not vanish altogether. The ground was trembling. In a moment, her mind suddenly went back to her husband, in the thick of battle. Something terrible was about to happen, she could feel it in her bones: and he was at the forefront.

"No!" she cried, hot tears streaming down her face. "You must live...to see your child!"

The pain intensified, but she gritted her teeth. Renewed strength filled her whole being as she reached out with the Holy Light, her thoughts enveloping Tharbin like a shield against whatever was coming. Her knees buckled, but she kept her thoughts focused. Suddenly there was fire everywhere, a sea of flame engulfing the mountain-side. She let out a loud cry as something warm and slimy passed between her legs. The Light faded, and for a moment there was silence in the lodge.

It was quickly broken by a loud, shrill cry.

The stinging, ripping, constricting sensations were gone. In its place, Melissa found herself weeping with joy. In her arms a little purplish infant was slowly gaining color, turning into a more lively shade of reddish pink. This tiny helpless being that she had carried beneath her heart was now squirming within her arms. She looked down into the squished little face, eyes firmly shut. Then the eyes blinked open and she saw those same green eyes that had appeared in her vision. A smile appeared on Melissa's face and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Minutes passed without notice in that lodge on Mount Hyjal. The sound of cheering was practically ignored by Melissa and her little baby: the world outside might not exist for all they knew or cared. By and by, a wearied soldier in steel armor appeared in the entrance of the lodge: he was covered in blood, some of it red, some of it a dark burgundy that looked almost black. He placed his sword against the wall and made his way to the woman seated on the floor, cradling a baby in her arms.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here," Tharbin apologized. "I should have been there."

"You were with me in my thoughts, love," Melissa replied. "Rest now. There's someone who wants to say hi." She held up the tiny sleeping baby. Tharbin wiped his blood-stained hands on the leg-plates of his armor, then caressed the baby's tiny head. Tears were now welling up in his eyes as well.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Melissa asked.

"It's a girl?" he returned. Melissa nodded. "Have you thought of a name?"

"I was thinking...Hannah," Melissa returned. "Hannah Redmane."

"That's good," Tharbin returned. "That's a good name." He then turned to his wife, looking her in the eyes.

"Something amazing happened," he replied. "We won." They both broke down into tears and relieved laughter.

"Yes, we won!" Tharbin repeated. "Those little points of light we saw in the woods. Thousands of them swarmed the demon-lord and exploded at once, destroying him. There was...an explosion. I still don't know how it happened, but...I was unscathed." He turned to his wife, glistening with sweat but beaming back at him.

"Tell me about that time you heard the Light."

* * *

 **(AN: If you've played _Legion_ , that vision might make sense. If not, i won't spoil it for you.)**

 **(If you think about it, though the point of view postulated in this story contradicts the nihilistic Void-lord worship done by the fans [and, to some extent, the lore], it makes sense. If the Void-lords cannot exist in the physical realm without devouring matter, then it stands to reason that they are enthralled to their insatiable hunger for life. This makes them weaker than the Light, as the Light does not need to devour life to exist.)**


	10. Epilogue

**(AN: So this technically turned out to be a "short" story, in that it was only ten chapters long and not over one hundred thousand words in length.)**

* * *

 **Epilogue**

The food had arrived in time. Melissa ate a sufficient amount, but most of it was being wolfed down by Xing. Melissa took a sip of rice wine, then breathed a relieved sigh. Talking was a long and thirsty business.

"So what happened, then?" Xing asked. "Did you tell him?"

"Mhmm," Melissa nodded. "Everything that happened. He was amazed and, to my amazement, he believed every word that I said."

"Why?" chuckled Xing.

"At the last moment of the battle," Melissa continued. "He was protected from the fire by some shield of Holy Light. I didn't know it at the time, but apparently I had reached out to him and covered him in divine protection. He was amazed at what happened, and spared no expense in giving me the proper training in how to wield the Light. The rest, as they say, is history. We settled down in Theramore, had two more kids since then. The first time I was called away was when adventurers went into Zul'Gurub and came back infected with the blood plague. It ravaged Stormwind and Orgrimmar, and many fell sick or died. The Alliance was in need of trained healers, and so I took the ship to Menethil Harbor, then slowly made my way to Stormwind to help the wounded."

"I heard that Theramore was destroyed," Xing stated. "Is that true?"

Melissa paused for a moment, placing her cup back down on the table. A gentle nod was the first answer that she gave the Pandaren.

"Yes, it was," she replied at length. In the corner of her eye she saw a hooded figure at one corner of the tavern, gazing at their table from beneath the dark hood with yellow eyes.

"But," she continued. "A friend warned me at the last minute, and I was able to escape with my husband and our three children: Hannah, Talus and Maryem. We're safely in Stormwind now. But there were many who lost their loved ones when Theramore was destroyed. That's why I'm here, Xing: not to spread hatred, but to bring healing."

"What an incredible story!" Xing returned. "I will remember it well." She slid a piece of peanut chicken off of her fifth skewer with her teeth and swallowed it whole. "Please, eat up! I still cannot believe you had _three_ children!"

"I guess all that traveling," Melissa blushed. "Has kept me in shape."

"What a shame," Xing returned. "You need to eat more, keep up your strength."

Melissa saw the hooded figure was starting to rise up from where it had been sitting, watching them.

"Excuse me, please," she said to Xing. "I have to uh, well, you know, powder my nose. Watch my books and my staff and make sure no one takes them, alright?"

"Of course," Xing nodded. "Your books are safe with me."

Melissa rose from her place and started walking after the hooded figure. It was making for the door. Melissa was much faster now than she had been at the Battle of Mount Hyjal and, picking up the skirts of her robe, ran after the departing figure. She ran down the stairs of Summer's Rest and followed the hooded figure behind a large boulder, out of sight of the Alliance guards.

"Wait!" she called out. "Why were you watching us?"

The figure paused upon hearing the voice.

"I remember you," a familiar voice replied. "We were in Northrend together. You didn't notice me, but I noticed everything that was going on in both camps. I had to make sure it was you."

"Who...who are you?" Melissa asked.

"Someone who was jealous of you, long ago," the voice returned. "Until she got everything she wanted." The figure then lifted up the hood to reveal its face. "Then it was all taken away from me."

The face was ghastly, a pale, gaunt mask of age-old flesh stretched over a bony skull. Its eyes were two points of yellow light that made Melissa's skin crawl. There was something familiar in that ghoulish face that was looking back at her. Yet this was not a living person, but a corpse without a soul: one of the damned that had fallen to the plague of undeath that had ravaged Lordaeron during the Third War, and risen again to serve the Lich King forever. From what Melissa Redmane had heard, after the Third War, some of them had been lost from the Lich King's control and now served Sylvanas Windrunner, the usurper in the Undercity, as the Forsaken.

"Melissa," the familiar voice spoke through the blackened lips of that shrouded, walking corpse.

"Oh, Hannah," breathed Melissa. "What has become of you?"

"I died," Hannah answered. "Then I came back. Now I serve the Dark Lady."

"Why are you here?" Melissa asked. "If the guards see you, you'll be killed!"

"Why should that frighten me?" Hannah asked, a grim smile upon her rotting face. "I'm already dead." Melissa did not laugh.

"I wanted to see if it was really you," Hannah returned. "To see if you were still alive, if you had everything that I ever wanted!"

"Hannah, I'm sorry," Melissa replied. "I didn't know. I...never heard back from you."

"I don't blame you," Hannah retorted. "I blame this world, that holds nothing more for me but disgust and regret."

"Hannah, please," Melissa said. "I know people I've met in my travels, powerful people. They can help you..."

"Do I look like I need help?" Hannah snapped.

"Well, you're...dead," Melissa commented awkwardly, as though it should be obvious.

"So?" Hannah returned. "Why should I change to suit the world that let me die?"

"You're sounding like old lady Puck."

"Perhaps she was right?" Hannah retorted.

"Hannah, please don't talk like that."

"Why not?"

"You weren't the only one who lost loved ones," Melissa said. "So many others lost loved ones to the Scourge. But so many more had the opportunity to live."

"I thought you would understand," Hannah sneered. "You of all people."

"Hannah, that's enough!" Melissa retorted, her patience starting to wear thin.

She was about to speak, then she halted herself. "You're right. That's quite enough. I can tell a lost cause when I see one. Now, if you'll excuse me, I better make myself scarce. My little detour may very well cost me my life if the Dark Lady hears about it."

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" Melissa asked, her annoyance forgotten by the fear that her friend could be in trouble.

"It doesn't matter," Hannah retorted. "Don't seek me out. Don't ever come looking for me. I am of the dead now, and your world holds no hope for me." She turned to leave.

"Do you remember your wedding?" Melissa asked. "You were the happiest I'd ever seen you in all the time we knew each other. You promised that you'd do anything you could to repay me for what I did for you. Do you remember that?"

Hannah did not immediately answer, but hesitated and did not immediately leave.

"How could I forget?" Hannah returned. "It was the happiest moment in my life. But then Lucas was taken away from me, in death as well as in life."

"I still brought you two together," Melissa replied. "For however long you had each other. And you never repaid me for what I did for you. Did you hear me?"

"Yes," Hannah replied. "And I'll be waiting for an opportunity to repay you. But for now, do not seek me out." With that, she donned her hood and vanished from Melissa Redmane's sight.

* * *

 **(AN: So that wraps it up for this story. I hope you enjoyed my first serious foray into the _World of Warcraft_. Which story would you like me to tell next? Several characters who might be featured in a forth-coming fic appeared in this story.)**

 **(I'm satisfied that I was able to finish something _WoW_ -based. Please leave your reviews and we'll see you in Azeroth)**


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